Susan Grimm

SQUANDARY

I felt betrayed by my body which I’d thought of
as up to most things even at this age. A loosening of string,

a further reaching after a word. But serviceable, able to keep on.
Not pouting after hair color. I confess to all previous excess.

Do I need to name them, pushing against an invisible Jenga
of negation and regret. How to summon again the bloom/

aplomb/the bomb—the way every young person is a glory
and a fool. Time is a wall at my back. Like a squirrel

digging a hole to bury something that will then be lost,
I have entombed my treasures. Therefore, let it be morning

throughout the day for then all things are possible—light
is light and dark is light. Mark the calendar only with stars.