Makers

Some make things happen,

others merely attend:

some bring gifts or stories,

some just finish the dregs;

some offer help and are

politely refused, others

just can’t be pleased;

some quietly tidy,

some make a mess;

some say a prayer,

others a curse; some

thank too much, some

sit silent while the

table is cleared.

 

Her eyes are the

curtain of calm

half-pulled over panic, the

twenty-year-dead desire to

walk out the door and

light a cigarette: the smoke

giving thanks for

solitude and stars.

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Comments

  • Antoniatable  On October 29, 2017 at 11:24 pm

    The last two lines made the poem for me the other s seemed true enough….

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