Each Other Moment
by Jessica Greenbaum
We turned location back on.
We were resetting our passwords.
We were scanning the QR code
to order an iced matcha latte.
We were on hold; we were saying
representative into the phone.
We were showing our Excelsior Pass
and putting in our contact information
for timed tickets to the gardens.
We were signing up for a streaming
service and decrying our Zoom
appearance. We were skimming
not reading. We were trawling
and scrolling. We were calculating
the millennia before reefs could
revive and species come back
in colors we haven’t imagined.
We were guilty, and each other
moment, also innocent. We were
meditating so the unforgiving
might give a little. We were trying
to find the contact information
for the company. We were
wondering where to recycle
foam rubber. We were listening
to a podcast and downloading
a playlist. We cross-indexed our
top issues in Charity Navigator.
We were making suggested
go bags and stay bins for the likely
floods and fires. We were
wondering why men only
gave us one star. We looked to
the sky for how to help any
anything at all. We hit retweet
on the full moon and we liked
the Big Dipper. Constellations
etch-a-sketched the night, then the
window shade’s round pull
rose into a sun and light came on.
We agreed with the ancients;
that was hopeful. We turned location
back off. We were innocent but
each other moment we were lost.
Jessica Greenbaum is the author of three poetry collections: Inventing Difficulty (Silverfish Review Press, 1998), The Two Yvonnes (Princeton University Press, 2012), and Spilled and Gone (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2019). Her poems have appeared in The New Yorker, Poetry, The Yale Review, Plume, and The Paris Review.
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