Three Points on a Circle
Yesterday-month, like a long dream,
slinks yellow-bellied down the apples
of my cheeks.
Today I am the uninspired adage
that a borrower amongst havers
will raw their palms clinging to good.
There is a metaphor cradled sleeping
in the sloping crescent of tonight’s moon,
hush and guileless.
Tomorrow it will wake as the sun
ushers bright out to make room for brighter.