for everything which is yes

If all goes well, he’ll
make us forget there was a
tiger among us.

Jeans sagging low, and
boxers bared to the world, he
looked like a baboon.

Like prized heirlooms pawned
to purchase bread, I would give
up these memories.

The catalpa stands:
an entrance guard bearing a
shield of dragon scales.

The problem: She has
not had a good cry in a
while. Only sad ones.

On the window sill
I wait: for poetry to
rise and infuse me

Wrinkles: striations
left after the glacier Time
has flowed over us.