Mitosis
You can divide the world
in many ways: those who love
hats—trilby, pillbox, cloche—
and those whose heads go bare,
those who sleep with the night
light on, those who believe
January's rounding the corner,
heliotrope parrot perched
atop the olive drab epaulettes
and those who tango with the wind,
those who think the sudden lump
in the neck or breast or throat
will vanish like sugar in hot mint tea,
poof !, and those who don't.
Copyright © Roy Jacobstein All rights reserved
The Southern Review, 2008
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