August 14, 2024 - "sometimes, pirates." by Linda Dolan
i haven’t been able to find my umbrella for a while now
and until today it hasn’t really down-poured. i’m afraid
that at counseling tonight, chris will say he’s leaving,
and it feels like the right place to do it.
i miss my dad again with the stabbing pain.
and it’s been a few months since my heart surgery now.
my bag is too heavy with the smoothies and a glass jar of chili
and the books and computer for the day. and the rain is fat drops
plopping their way into my bag and onto my computer
and i realize i’m walking very slanted and very cold, proud
that i’m doing the only thing i can.
but numb.
and then i transfer to the r train at times square.
and from 42nd street to 8th street, the conductor speaks pirate:
this is a brrrrooooklyn boouund arrrrrrrrrrrrr train.
and each stop, i think he might laugh or trip up. but each time
i’m grinning, and he’s: arrrrrrrrrrr train. next stop twenty-tharrrrrrrd street.
there are moments
in this world
that give me strength enough
to cry.
“sometimes pirates.” is a poem from the author’s chapbook i’m probably betraying my body (Bottlecap Press, 2024)
linda harris dolan is a poet and editor living in Lenapehoking/Brooklyn. As Poetry Instructor at NYU Langone Health, she leads writing workshops with nurses, medical students, caregivers, and pediatric patients. She is Assistant Poetry Editor at Bellevue Literary Review. She holds an MFA in Poetry from NYU, where she was a Starworks Creative Writing Fellow. Linda is the recipient of fellowship support from The Rona Jaffe Foundation, Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, the Starlight Foundation, Brooklyn Poets, and the Ruth Stone House. Her chapbook, i’m probably betraying my body (Bottlecap Press, 2024) traces the experience of one person in a body, amidst a family full of bodies, navigating life with a genetic heart disease.
