TOMORROW ' S GRACES

The bank was closed,
a parchment of reality
declared to
to my mind.
I still visited
and knocked on the door,
hoping it was a mistake.
But a decrepit guard
only laughed
at my despair.
By morning,
midnight came
for my delusion.
A dove’s birdsong
from nowhere special
breathed perfume
of compassion
into the statue
that I created
from my essence.