Bet

Bet

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

You will find yourself in between the lines of Shakespeare;

Tucked into the corners of letters and standing atop the punctuation marks.

Take your blinders off.

You are not Pandora's box.

You are fingerprints on windowsills;

Loud and boisterous laughs.

You're the minor keys.

You are quiet footsteps and shadows that stand ten feet tall, depending on where the sun is.

You are broken. As are the rest of us.

There's nothing wrong with that.

You can't expect to come out of this life without a little wear and tear.

You are crossed arms and raised eyebrows,

and sometimes really stupid jokes.

Find the good. Run towards it.

There's no need for a map.

Stop waiting for one.

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