After Li Po

This is not after Li Po
the way the state is after me
for neglecting to pay all my taxes,

nor the way I am after
the woman in front of me
on the long line at the post office.

Li Po, I am not saying
“After you”
as I stand holding open

one of the heavy glass doors
that divide the centuries
in a long corridor of glass doors.

No, the only way this is after you
is in the way they say 
it’s just one thing after another,

like the way I will pause
to raise a glass of wine to you
after I finish writing this poem.

So let me get back 
to sitting in the wind alone
among the pines with a pencil in my hand.

After all, you had your turn,
and mine will soon be done
then someone else will sit here after me.


 = Karen Marek