Refilling


The gas tank when low, the coffee-maker, are easy --
Filled up again when, burned away in cells and in cylinders,
They are tapped out. Not many moments to be ready
For a new morning and another run down to work, up to home,
Over to her place, no?
The heart, now, fills and empties on another map of things,
And flies furthest when nearly empty, stays home when full,
And breaks untapped and unheard. Mornings
Are not so easy, but when filled up a new one can be made,
Even the moon is not too far.