With Meager Apologies to Mary Oliver's Estate
A poem
WITH MEAGER APOLOGIES TO MARY OLIVER’S ESTATE torri blue Who am I to say I know what Mary would have wanted, But I think her publisher wants my money. I think they want to sell her soul, Only her soul has returned to the water. What is there to sell now but Sophia Bush Reading her poems? I do not want to hear Sophia Bush Read your poems, Mary. I do not want to pay two dollars For a behind the scenes look At your one wild and precious life. I am so sick of that line Floating around on mugs on Etsy, Posters of mountains, Sophia Bush’s voice. I don’t want a journal with your poetry Broken into pieces like kindling. I will go to the library, the bookshop. I will take what you’ve given me. Then I will go to the woods, Let the black oaks say the rest.
Guess I’ll be returning your present.
So good, Torri. I love the way you see life. Your thoughts about Mary remind me of how I feel about pastors these days. I’d rather take what’s been given me, go to the woods, and let the black oaks say the rest. What the oaks have to say is pretty profound, just like your writing. Love this.