Thursday, July 8, 2010

Where Everybody Is

Where Everybody Is

Locatable by description.
Married. Housed. Apartmented.
Working in real estate,
in insurance.
In medicine. In the movies.

Pulled closer by the lapels,
the collar, the belt loops.
With babies. With a dog.
With his band,
with their church.

Inevitably involved. In school.
In Kentucky, in Brooklyn,
in his parents’ house.
In the hospital.
In Sydney, Australia.

Navigational devices.
Happier than she has ever been.
Voice just as sharp.
Softer in the body.
Teeth straightened, glistening.

Hold still.
The company you own,
the restaurant you might buy.
Whose couch you will sleep on,
whose brother you saw.

Your coordinates, trajectory.
The next time we speak,
we will say it again:
how good it is to catch up,
to finally catch up.


  1. This is extraordinary, Hannah, in so many ways I can't begin to touch on them all. I generally don't leave comments but read your every post (how do you do it?) and just wanted to let you know I'm especially grateful for this one. It's amazing to me that you've used Phillip Toledano's sad, resonant experience and opened it up in a way that brings us all, very gently, into the circle of concern. Thanks so much!

  2. I met up with an old high school friend a few months ago. Details were shared, names of cities, names of people we used to know, degrees, jobs, etc. It was a rush to get everything in during the short dinner & dessert & kids running around.

    This poem reflects that to me, the rush of a renewed friendship, of catching up. (sigh)

  3. Hi Hannah,
    I went to Phillip Toledano's site, and was moved to tears by his beautiful tribute to his father. Reading it and viewing his photographs was an experience. Thank you for leading me to it.


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