I’m struck by how this poem creates a vortex, how all its energy swirls around what isn’t said, its tension tight as wire. How one stands after unbearable news. And goes on. I’ve wondered these last days, post-most-recent horror of the awful massacre in Newton, CT, how we go on. How we stomach pain. How we eat the dark. “How can you not love the human animal?” Ellen asks. We eat, we stand, we walk. We go on.