So On Poem by Jack Galmitz

everything is a symbol to some people.
where the door of the house is in
relationship to the street. whether a shade
would help keep the day cool for the cat.

and they live with regrets. should never have
told uncle Felix he was too old when he carried
the cross over his shoulder to the mete. He wanted
to show his faith. and then he dropped dead.

it's like going to the beach in winter when it is
alive with seagrass. the waves keep rushing to the sand
regular as a period. and it never seeks answers
to itself it is not a mystery or a scourer of tissue.

when I woke from the dream there was a rose
at my feet and I live alone and unattended.