for everything which is yes

The school and the flag:
the same three colors–inverse,
though, in prominence.

Napping in a chair
by the open window, a
concordant cry: “Goal!”

A light bulb halo
glows through curtains that hang like
crimson angel wings.

List’ning to the rain
in a quiet apartment
is a day well spent.

Under London’s tears,
beneath a slate umbrella,
a dream measures up.

Mary has clearly
left. But even Burt’s like-child
love of life is gone.

The skyline sits–still
and steadfast–a hound on the
front porch at day’s end.