Older, Yes

Each night when I go to sleep

I wake up a different person

Older, yes

Another unevident line in the

Corrugated line up of evidence

A new context of experiences

Different dreams

Than the night before

A fine balance faltered

Stability alchemized to risk

Hope cultivated, marinated

In the circumstance of moments

Folded to fit into my pocket

If I have room amongst

The other trinkets I cling to

Like unfloating life boats

Because stuff always sinks

And birds cannot fly

With backpacks

Clipped to their wings.