By Tricia Cope
you and I had faith
in dreams and echoes
of dreams. Earnest suits,
macaroni, used cars.
Now I know you too well
and not at all. Middle age,
lustful of meaning, intolerant
of levity, rewrites our stories
about what is real. We wake up
restless under tangled sheets.
A lark sings. Curtains flutter
in slanted sunlight
and things transform,
luminescent: the future, your
face. Life, which we share
like a cab ride through the city.
Tricia Cope lives in the idyllic mountain valley of Midway, Utah, where she is raising the last of her seven children and spending time with her first grandson. She teaches writing classes at BYU and is an editor for Wayfare Magazine. When she’s not writing (or grading and editing writing) she enjoys travel, design, yoga, and hiking the glorious hills behind her house. Her writing has been published in Segullah, Inscape, and Wayfare Magazine.