Monday, February 21, 2011

Necessity is a Greater God than Truth

How do I tell her that leaving
the front door open in her enthusiasm
to catch the bus was a mistake;
that the driver, concerned with
spilled coffee, didn’t see him
warned too late by a yelp and a thud

How do I describe that farm
without crying, that wonderful place
where all parents take dead pets
to frolic and chase chickens
and be happy and alive
in their children’s minds?

How do I explain, when she asks,
why there’s a spot in the garden
with no flowers?

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