commuter on foot
I’m a woman, and I must be on my way.
I’d love to stay and watch the night takeover
so I may know the gradient that parades across the sky towards stars.
They said I could be anything, pick a skill and résumé,
so I made friends with the grease turning engines.
Some would hate me for surviving,
but while they have the night, I have the day.
Do you think I was born for this?
I believe I was made to dance under every moon.
seasons
The roses leaning into light:
It will be your turn soon,
your turn to wither and lose
your most attractive mirrors,
your turn to give in to the Great Theatre.
On a hot day in May,
while sparkling above the porch
those bright stationary comets on stems say
it will be my turn to sing.