The National Catholic Review

Today was better,
less consumed
with pain and terror.


When I awoke, still in bed,
for a little while I wished for
tender and unhurried sex.


Weariness didn’t sow fear like
yesterday’s curse; it had become
a foreign cousin, here to stay the year.


I got up, shuffled through a little
housework, paid some bills. Opened
the blinds to let the sun into my heart.


Today I kept down lunch, on a hunch
chose tomorrow’s menu. Let myself
want to live again.

Bonnie Manion is a long-practicing poet, published in Pegasus, Limestone, Karamu and other journals.

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