hope

hope is not whatever has been told to you.
not by some stuffy college professor.
not by some ancient and dead author.
it certainly isnt that
fluttering prayer.

nor is it that thing with feathers
as dickinson described,
that you regurgitated with arrogant disregard
while in the check out line of
a market.

hope is that three legged mutt
in the cage at the pound.
its tail still wagging at the possibility
of human touch
from each passer by.

hope is faiths poor and ugly sibling.
faith is a prayer sent directly to
heavens feet.
hope is a wish that falls upon the cosmos
deaf ears.

hope is a devils embrace,
cold and uncaring,
its mans impunity to the laws of nature
and fact. hope is merely
a fantasy answer for happenstance.