Teachers
It seems unjust
maybe even cruel
that god could grant life
and leave us illiterate
Who has taught me more
about being alive
than those who could say
what it was like
But He gave us enough
between the root
and the bark
to get it out
And get it across
My Final Offer
Just a few more tears
Then a few more
Then a few more
My Fortunes
The bag I carry
is often a pillow
to keep my neck high.
Behind my head
my hands collide
in a game of “Did I bring it?”
They start with hope
and end in knots
when we remember
that it doesn’t matter.
Face to Face
If we spend all day on our backs
Nothing would be a mystery
or take us by surprise
It would be such a treat
to see eye to eye
a sight more pleasurable
than whatever might fall
at any given moment