Grinding the Lens

I am pulling myself together.

Don’t want to go on a trip.

I have painted the living room white

and taken out most of my things.

The room has never been so empty.

Just now a banging thunder

and suddenly falling rain.

I leave the typewriter and run

outside in my nightgown and take

the cotton blanket off the line.

It is summer and I am in the middle

of my life. Alone and happy.

Notes:

This poem is part of the folio “Linda Gregg: Never Give Up Longing,” curated by David Semanki, and was published in Gregg’s 2008 new and selected volume, All of It Singing. It is reprinted here with permission of Graywolf Press. Read the rest of the folio in the April 2026 issue of Poetry.

Source: Poetry (April 2026)