Poetry Sunday

I've had this poem in my collection for a long time, mainly because it contains one of my favorite, most thought-provoking lines: "This is the loneliest job in the world/to be an accountant of the heart" ...

The Loneliest Job in the World

by Tony Hoagland

As soon as you begin to ask the question, Who loves me?,
you are completely screwed, because
the next question is How Much?,

and then it is hundreds of hours later,
and you are still hunched over
your flowcharts and abacus,

trying to decide if you have gotten enough.
This is the loneliest job in the world:
to be an accountant of the heart.

It is late at night. You are by yourself,
and all around you, you can hear
the sounds of people moving

in and out of love,
pushing the turnstiles, putting
their coins in the slots,

paying the price which is asked,
which constantly changes.
No one knows why.

At a time when love ... and even grudging tolerance ... is in short supply, this is a wonderfully reflective poem. Enjoy.

Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. More thoughts later.

Bilbo