What We Leave Behind
Imagine if our kisses were finite...
Matt Layne writes…
Back in 2019, as I was fast approaching fifty, there were celebrations everywhere marking the fiftieth anniversary of the moon landing. I realized I had missed humanity’s first steps on the moon by 108 days. That numerical coincidence sent me exploring the numerological significance of 108. I began writing a series of poems centered on the number 108.
At the time, I had no idea how often 108 appears in spiritual traditions around the world. Japanese Zen temple bells toll 108 times to welcome the new year. Buddhist, Sikh, Jain, and Hindu prayer beads each number 108. Mantras are traditionally repeated 108 times. Stonehenge measures 108 feet in diameter. At Bob Weir’s memorial service earlier this year, attendees observed 108 seconds of silence. Even outside the mystical, the number turns up in surprising places: a baseball is held together by 108 double stitches, creating the friction that gives it its familiar shape and flight.108 seems to appear everywhere.
I love this little poem. It may be my favorite meditation I’ve written. I’m especially fond of the word bombinating, but even more, I love where the poem arrives. All of our kisses, all of our moments, are in-the-end, finite. Remembering that helps me move beyond the small hurts that so easily consume my understanding of the world. It reminds me to give myself completely to the life that’s here while I have it.
I hope you find something beautiful in this poem, but moreover, I hope you find some small (or large) beauty in your world today.
“What We Leave Behind” appears in Miracle Strip, released August 31, 2022.
Miracle Strip, a poetry collection by Matt Layne, is a unique hybrid of the written and spoken word. Each piece of the collection has an end-stop embellishment QR code which, when scanned, transforms the reader into a listener. Layne has recorded each poem, often with the accompaniment of musician and poet, Ned Mudd. The first line of the book invites the reader to “tell me your story, and I will tell you mine,” in the campfire tradition. In Miracle Strip, the reader and poet embark on an experiential journey of memories and the ghosts who haunt us.
Miracle Strip by Matt Layne is in print! Get your copy today!
Poet, librarian, raconteur; Matt Layne has been poking hornet’s nests and looking under rocks for lizards and snakes since he was knee-high to a peanut peg. His debut multimedia poetry collection, Miracle Strip, had been awarded the 2025 Alabama Author Award for Poetry and was named the 2024 Book of the Year by the Alabama State Poetry Society. Order your copy today.
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So sweet and sad, but ultimately sweet. Thanks, Matt.
I could see every bee and feel ever sting in your poem. Bees are terrifying when we're young. That random sting is so unfair. So uncalled for. Mom insisted I learn to turn off the water spigot that's buried in bushes festering with bees on blossoms. 'Just dive in. Ignore them and they'll ignore you." I'll be damned if it wasn't true. And today, as I carefully pour fresh water in the bee pan, the bees swirl around me, agitated at being disturbed in their drinking. So far, they haven't stung, but I must never wear the red shirt.