Maybe we belong together
looking at the transit
trains with sides
like scuffed chalkboards.
Maybe we belong, reclused.
A single museum gallery
postcard on the
bare wall. Maybe we
belong lost to our
children, inspired by
a new longing.
Maybe we belong
On the window’s edge,
feet on the iron
landing trying to
see with
just one eye, trying to
survive with
just one heart.