Twyla Hansen

You Will Not Find

From Sanctuary Near Salt Creek. Lone Willow Press. 1991.

You will not find it
where you necessarily expect.
Your bed may let you down.

Before rising, your mind
has already parted morning’s drapes,
searched the depths of each drawer.

Don’t count on it, lying there,
so many moonlit musings on rerun.
Which of those childhood myths shattered first?
Light behind that door barely visible.

In the yellow dawn, uncurl your one and only body,
take inventory of each pulse and curve.
Hasn’t it, after all, served you well?

Pull on your shorts and shoes,
stick the elusive key into your purple shirt.
Navigate the river walk,
part the morning with your tongue,

Breathe in every birdsong.