From the Middle

How much of everything is pure
Getting ready. Dressing, pushing the button
Asquint through its machined furl
Only to unbutton, the eyes-open moment

Revealed. Ask any animal: nudity isn’t
The same as nakedness. Once you’ve seen
A dangling, you can’t unsee it, and
From that anything might ensue.

There’s the rub. Taking the long view
You could say the future is romantic
I suppose. Also something you
Could never do without, though its bric-

a-brac is purely theoretical, until
It’s arranged. Or not. Then, a miracle?

More Poems by Katharine Coles