SHE’S BEEN STOCKPILING HAPPINESS
Sometimes she takes it out to handle,
Tries it on like a dress
That she might want to buy.
It is blue as agate.
It is smooth as a peeled egg,
Perfect in her hand.
It is fierce as black-eyed susans.
It is the dark hollow
Of sleep; it is the throb
Of a bass note, repeating,
Repeating.
written 1998
