Holding

One daybreak it will be gone.

This moon river breakfast epiphany

that revels within its moment.

Someone will say a kind word - 

or I will hear music that stitches

my heart to beat again.

It won’t be this morning.

Today’s mourning is silence

and blue-choke cigarette smoke.

Joy will be taken when it comes.

As if holding this felt-tipped doll

was just Holly Golightly in drag.