H and S

Call me child, close
the door between this
and the other room.
The wood of the old chair
by the window in your kitchen
warms the eyes to see it behind
them, formed and placed in mind.

I want to keep going,

enjoy the musculature
of resilience, know it is
not mania to burn the
chair in whatever panic, but to
thereafter gather the ash,
glue to make plywood out of
the dust, and sit again anew