THE LESSON

 Bethany Reid

Learn where you stop and other begins.

Learn your body’s ends and means, its byways

and intersections. Learn to be other

than your body. Learn to be a cloud

full of rain and sparks, holding

storms in your belly. Learn names

by heart. Learn hearts light

as the hearts of hummingbirds, heavy

as the heart of the blue whale. Learn

to love the broken parts left behind.

Learn to leave nothing behind.

Learn the truth of what whispers,

how a child’s cupped hands catch

s’s floating past milk teeth. Learn to be milk,

pale and organic. Learn to take it

in and make bones of it, to feel

the pulse and slake of thirst

in your throat. Learn the interruptions,

the stagger of your own heart, pulsing.

Learn the hardest of lessons. Learn

how to let go of all that you’ve learned.