What’s the purpose, now,
of crying, whilst you’ve cried
already, he stated, as though he’d
by no means idea, or been informed—
and most likely he hadn’t—
Write down one thing
that doesn’t must topic,
that also issues,
to you. Regardless that I didn’t
realize it then, the ones certainly
had been the times. Random
corners, round one among which,
on that exact day,
a colony of bees, certain
via intuition, swarmed low
to the bottom, in order
to not abandon the wounded
queen, seeking to upward thrust,
no longer emerging, from the strip of
dust the place not anything had
ever thrived, in point of fact, aside from
in clumps the grass right here
and there that we used to name
cowboy grass, I assume for its
toughness: cussed,
virtually, steadfast, although that’s
a phrase I discovered early, each and every
time the exhausting method, to not use
too simply.

This poem has been excerpted from the gathering You Are Right here, edited via Ada Limón.