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Life is just a temporary fix--
What goes over the fence last.
Life is the half-eaten debris
of Sunday dinner stuffed into
tupperware. Embellish to your
heart’s content, it is still leftovers.
Life is the hem of your skirt caught
by your heel. Life is the evidence
of things you wish hadn’t been seen.
Life will dock your dickory, yes.
It’ll swarm, life will, in your walls
where the winter is warm, troubling
but life is sweet as a jumprope chant
and supple as a child. Life is
all about heart...and backbone.
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