The Hat I Left Behind

There once was a hat that I left behind
sweating on the seat of the bus,
fanning herself on the benches at church,
chatting at a table over coffee.

I bustled away to work,
I bowed my head like a vessel of God,
I bristled at the conversation,

But I left her,
full to the brim,
like I had so many other
important places to be.

Beating Our Forgetful Drums

The advent of so many dawns
has me weaving verses again

alone and wanting my breath
to transport me to waters
where childhood is played
with avarice, sinning in that joy
and with all the greedy laughter
I can gather.

All the grandmothers cry
when I depart on the wind that takes us all
away to the other side of hearts that beat,
thumping our forgetful drums
for the last time.