Poem: Good Bones by Maggie Smith

A poem for this moment in our lives… (October 30, 2020)

BY MAGGIE SMITH

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.

Read by the poet

https://cdn.simplecast.com/audio/1bf11c/1bf11c14-f329-4a38-b3a4-d5a91aaa46a6/4f5e2257-f3e4-47c0-a37a-08a1098f99f5/693c9700d85be960b56c0bb045134356ccdc8132_tc.mp3



Maggie Smith, “Good Bones” from Waxwing.  Copyright © 2016 by Maggie Smith.  Reprinted by permission of Waxwing magazine

Poem: Good Bones by Maggie Smith was originally published on Ned Hayes