The First Good Poem
        for Win
by Andrea Potos

Gratitude now to that boy
I loved in college,
whom I could never marry–
he was headed for the skies after all,

and I wanted earth,
my hands at the desk,
what he helped to give me
that deep summer night I waited

on my threadbare apartment couch,
ticking off the hours in my head;
he was late, again, distracted
by his dreams of engines and wings.

Later, the words arrived in a poem
to hold that ache,
and all the others
in my life to come.



 

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