The Catastrophe I Was for the Past . . .

An old friend wrote to welcome
Me back from the dead,
Back from “the catastrophe

That you were for the past year,”
And I wondered when
That catastrophe began,

How catastrophes begin.
Sorrow, joy, and failure all
Have a way of showing up
At once to ring the doorbell,

But kindness and wickedness
Issued the invitations
Long since, and answer the door.
Who else has been invited?