Ode to Porches from Issue 90
Even at dawn, driving
through town to the market,
I find them inviting,
these open palms
held out from hard facades
and empty stares.
I think sometimes to stop
and make myself at home
on one, take up the offer
it makes, to hold court
in a chair until
an eyelid or a curtain
lifts and I am caught
there in the wickered
arms of a stranger.
