False Analogy

A ladder
back chair will
not push her
to hit a glass

ceiling with the tip
of her tongue. Without progressive

lenses, she can see
how life unfolds
in phases
of another

planet’s moon. Or two.
Architects toss out the best

words—another
year passes
successfully inside
a found poem.

Ode to 2012

More than ready to close
the book

on this year. New cases bought
and assembled. Shelves and volumes

remembered, dusted, rearranged. A new order—but
too much left

unsaid. A beautiful birth, a transformative
death, I stand

somewhere between
living my life.

Beware Neglected Candles (or, Another Year)

A weatherman’s heart,
a three-alarm
fire two miles south, the furnace

kicks in, a hiss
that warms, cause
unknown, to kick it

just for today,
let the cat out
the back door, safety

from what you think
you want, draws
to a close.