Immaterial
by Elspeth Weaver

It doesn't matter

that Mars is as bright as Christmas
that the lake is glass
that the moon loves you
that the air is velvet
that your husband looks over wire rims and wonders

it doesn't matter

if you are a present
a package handed
from one family to another
to be unwrapped with care
and set gently aside.

 

 

maybe this is a poem.