Were you, too, born for the job? One
foot before the other, remembering
every so often to straighten your spine?
And is it merely weakness to give up
this month's collection of worldly goods
only to fall in love with the heart-
shaped leaves in a plant store window, cunning
holographic tiles (only plastic, but still)
that fold and collapse into a purse? The world
is going to pieces but maybe we could finish
a few of the projects we promised we'd
complete. At least we tell ourselves that,
as we get out of bed to the sun's applause
and drawn curtains eclipse the long dark.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
