Doubt

After “Fear” by Raymond Carver

yellow rose vine

Doubt the button I sewed on Tom’s sweater will hold

or that my cooking is good enough for company.

Doubt that I can see, when I prune them,

how the roses really want to grow.

Doubt when I speak to the new widow

that I will know what to say

or avoid useless cliché.

Doubt I’ll ever be cool, but now

I’m old enough I doubt it matters.

Doubt that I’ll ever stop

being stupefied by spring

or startled in a silent house

by the muted plink of a petal

dropping from its bouquet.

Doubt there will ever be a better way

than in Tom’s arms to start the day.

Doubt I have the wisdom,

as an unchecked autocrat 

drops bombs on a whim,

to be a patriot and a peacemaker.

Doubt that the vulnerability

of this fragile world can be borne.

Doubt that I will ever stop bearing it.

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Mary Camille Thomas

Mary Camille Thomas is a native of Santa Cruz who is grateful to make her home on the California coast once more after living internationally and on the road. She studied comparative literature at UC Davis and received a master’s degree in library science from UCLA, which gave her a way to earn a living while making a life among books. Her poetry and essays have appeared in the Monk in the World Guest Post Series, Moving Force Journal, Presence, Porter Gulch Review, Second Wind, Sisters Singing, and The New Story, and she has completed a novel called What Lies Buried about a man reckoning with his family’s Nazi past.

7 thoughts on “Doubt”

  1. Oh, Mary! Thank you for this beautiful poem. I have so many doubts right now and I can see that they’re not all negative. I doubt that I will not be touched again by your poetry. ❤️

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