I wanted to begin by honoring the poet Martha Silano, who died very recently of ALS. I’ve long admired her work; she was such a kind and fun person, too. Her forthcoming book, Terminal Surreal, tangles with her diagnosis and meditations on life and death. I highly recommend it. You can listen to this heartbreaking collective reading of her poem “Once” that Helena de Groot produced for the Poetry Foundation’s Poetry Off the Shelf. It’s breathtaking.
This month, I’ve been thinking a lot about Martha Silano’s poem “Is This My Last Ferry Trip?” published in the recent issue of Poetry. What does it mean to be fully present in all of the details of life—mundane, precious, or both—that make our lived experience beautiful? What does it mean to account for these things all the while being fully aware that the present moment is almost already an elegy? When is the last time we do something daily, habitual, and part of our routine? How do we honor this, or even just acknowledge it?