The Simile Like Itself is a Metaphor
for not much at all. For now
that’s all I’ve got.
For instance, I cup my hand over his heart
and it’s like a hand over a heart.
For instance, outside a couple of night birds
are singing like birds singing at night.
It’s beautiful enough
to name this world —
to name this little world.
No more breeze like change. No more
light shifting like truth. I’m tired
of the moment dressed up for church.
I’m tired of dressing up for the moment.
I’m tired. It’s two in the morning
and I’ve been peaceful for some time now
in a small room in a small house. It’s enough.
And enough is just like this.
BETH ANSTANDIG holds an MFA in poetry from Arizona State University. Her work has appeared in Caesura, Clackamas Literary Review, Flint Hills Review, Yale Anglers’ Journal, Louisiana Literature, Phoenix New Times, and Hayden’s Ferry Review, among others. She is the author of The Garden of Forking Paths (Prentice Hall/Pearson) and The Human Herd: Awakening Our Natural Leadership (Morgan James Publishing). Anstandig is a licensed psychotherapist and founder of The Circle Up Experience on her Northern California horse ranch.