Unwelcome Advice
for Annie Dillard, whose snark I borrowed
If you only have salt. Make it a feast.
Let no one tell you otherwise.
If you want to grow tomatoes. By all means.
Let no one tell you otherwise.
Even if your salt is tears. Sorrow is a gift
no one would choose
one that makes us kinder to one another.
And salt is delicious on tomatoes.
Plant tomatoes even if the plant never
comes to fruit. The soil is grateful.
Seeds are grateful to be put to use.
Of what use is a mind
if not to contemplate? Of what use is
a heart if not to love?
There are no itsy-bitsy friends.
Every friend is a miracle.
There are no itsy-bitsy journeys.
Every moment you breathe is grace.
The jawbone giving calcium back
to the earth has not
the lips to tell you this.
Thank goodness I do.
Lana Hechtman Ayers shepherded over 150 poetry collections into print as managing editor for three small presses. She lives in Oregon on unceded lands of the Yaqo’n people with her beloved husband and fur babies, where on clear, quiet nights she can hear the Pacific ocean whispering to the moon. Visit her online at LanaAyers.com.
Amethyst Review 