A Facebook Poem

feetApril Facebook
Here between the worlds we meet: the younger sister
of a man I used to work with – a former-lover
who writes off Broadway in New York City – women
from Yorkshire, Nottinghamshire, and Scotland who love
a dead poet I too adore – two cousins, a brother, a sister –
a niece who knits hats – a niece who strings beads –
a nephew who built his wife a sleek maple desk –
a poet from Indiana and six more from near here –
a hurdy-gurdy player, a folk singer, and an activist actor –
Sheila from Ocala, Florida, and Sheila from England,
and Sheila the memoir writer on the Olympic Peninsula –
writers, witches, atheists, Buddhists, Mormons, yogis,
dancing in a dazzling stream of words at three a.m. –
clicking LIKE, clicking SHARE – love, hate, despair,
war, politics, cute cats, threatened whales, wise dogs,
and coyotes in the garden eating red-feathered chickens –
all fair game, all grist for our mill, all encompassing
as the white keys tap, tap, tap us toward dawn.

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