Ada Limon

What I didn't like was how people talked to menow that I was no longer single; they were nicer.Men who never looked at me would start up a conversation,like I was suddenly some safer form of fire.

If we could light up the room with pain, we__ be such a glorious fire.

People have done this before, but not us.

There are so many people who__e come before us,arrows and wagon wheels, obsidian tools, buffalo.Look out at the meadow, you can almost see them,generations dissolved in the bluegrass and hay.I want to try and be terrific. Even for an hour.

All night I dreamt of bonfires and burn piles and ghosts of men, and spirits behind those birds of flame. I cannot tell anymore when a door opens or closes, I can only hear the frame saying, Walk through.

I am not obsessing.I am just sitting hereperforating this post-itwith a push-pin.

I'm thirty-five and remember all that I've done wrong.