Gary H. Howard

Where One May Ask

 

 

No one can predict

What tigers may emerge

From that last refuge

We bade farewell to

 

Knowing that if

All roads were to close

Only our minds

Would remember

What drawer contained the key

 

And trees that we saw last

In dreams   would they know

When to acknowledge survival

And the presence of green gods

 

There may be hope yet

Crossing frantic

From one side to the next

 

But I half-memorized

What answers I could save

Offering up only feeble gestures

 

 

And the knowledge

That what I saw now

Was as real

As a lost blade

Of grass

 

Someone had

Inconveniently

Forgotten to cut