For Vera On a Bad Day
when you lift the lid off of hedgerow leaves and see the world as it is,
as open as one who did not know what yearning was but loving.
if i borrow four eggs, i know you will say i borrowed three
when i tried to pay you back in quarters. i close my eyes
when we shift from the harbor,
but i know the milkman will harrow through the pavement, still,
my face atop the sea will heave those porcelain images of home.
though we never mean to write love poems
or disqualify ourselves in the running,
we have learned to knock our ambitions from decay
and have preyed upon the way the garden grows next.