Scrutiny
by Helena Minton


Years ago she was asked
to record her favorites
in the form of nouns:
blue, avocado, silk.
Now her list is private,
365 things to do:
hang the hummingbird feeder,
try to grow allium again,
make jello salad.
No one scrutinizes her desires.
The binoculars trained downstream,
she's left to fill in her own blanks
with a steady heartbeat.
At the old armory, de-toothed
and put to new uses,
the bricks' right angles
assure her a place for her thoughts
like a doll cupboard
with twenty tiny drawers.
She asks nothing more
than to follow the signs
to the Commodore's House:
366th on her list.
Around the corner from the limelight:
her extended hyphenate of endeavors.






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