Glad as I was to see
the wasp squirm in the web, shields aquiver,
lance of its ass lowered, I was not prepared
for her glittering approach.
the whole country snarled into such a hot mess
you wouldn’t recognize democracy if she
removed her skirts and danced on your lap for free,
pretending to like you.
A woman laughs
and my daughter steps out of the radio.
Grief spreads in my throat like strep.
And the black lines the trees made at sundown yesterday
in one direction now point the other, saying
see what you missed in your life that was there all the time.
It happens, you know—the day opens itself
like a tulip in a warm room, and you meet someone
who amazes you with their willingness
to be a thousand percent alive
invent a dialogue of such eloquence
that even the ants in your own
house won’t forget it.