Three Ways with Hope

Annie McCann-Gomm

52 North, imagined

dusk dies around our ears,
sometimes a hare crosses my path
its fawny grey barely visible
in wheaten grass and gloom,
late afternoon, midwinter birches

wild nights and soft, and a breath
that can be all we have
and hope, and hope.
hope falling, hope sighing.

wild nights and soft,
two faces in disco lights, and eyelashes between
heavy seed pods and half-laugh sighs.

next hope, next hope

this is someone else’s laundry, someone else’s life
and we get to do this gladly
we live in the eaves of our desires
and we get to do this gladly
even through hurt, even through pinpricks
we get to do this gladly. 

certain grey joy

in your dead mouth
there is also hope
love lies in places
a new snow, even now, barely seen
falls, still

Annie McCann-Gomm is a grad student, waitress and writer in the Netherlands. She studies and writes about the anthropology of the environment, thinking about how we can live with the earth and each other.