by Anonymous

What if, tomorrow, after your coffee,
after your Wheaties, while you're buttoning your clothes-
a dove descends and inspects your chimney?
(What if it doesn't?)
Expect nothing. Suppose.

What if, while putting your room in order,
after you've stashed every thing where it goes-
you see that your mirror's haloed in foxfire?
(What if it doesn't?)
Expect nothing. Suppose.

What if, during your smoke on the park bench,
after your cogitations, before your doze-
who should kiss you but a leftover virgin?
(What if she doesn't?)
Expect nothing. Suppose.

What if, suddenly, deep in a bookstore,
a ghost voice comes leap-frogging over the rows-
the voice says, "I love you." It's your father's.
(What if it isn't?)
Expect nothing. Suppose.

What if, one evening, watering your bean patch,
kite-caught, you quicken: you know what God knows-
the salt of your tears withers the sproutlings-
What if it doesn't?
Suppose. Suppose. Suppose.