Happiness

such a small book

the rustle of prayer flags

a burst of wind and a sudden

shower of leaves

this one afternoon

in your garden

and knowing

that dusk comes

evening in long

wool skirts

and you will leave the garden

go inside to dishes

or phone calls

your hands in soapy water

when night arrives

a hooded army

and whatever you save

of this afternoon

it all fits

in your pocket—something

to lift between your fingers

something to wear out

with tears

and terrible kisses.

Lisa Ortiz