Certain themes repeat themselves

a thought with dark wings

an act of love

what we take for granted

at our mothers’ knees

arthritic knees

in the early morning

with nowhere else to turn

small joys

and wave upon endless wave

of disenchantment

only deepening

these chiseled outlines

between self

and other voices

narrow-hearted, without a breath

our sheltered hoaxes

curved with dreams