Maybe Tomorrow

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MAYBE TOMORROW


Everything these toddler days is maybe 

tomorrow, and she’s picked it up 


like a true believer. Maybe tomorrow

we can play Play-Doh. Maybe 


tomorrow you can be the bear. What’s nice 

is that maybe tomorrow staves off 


a total collapse when we’re too hands-deep

in dishes or folding little shirts


to oblige. What almost hurts is watching 

her fail to recognize today’s broken


promise as yesterday’s maybe

tomorrow, merrily sending it another day 


down the line. Is this, then, 

the proverbial faith of a child,


a hope so real and stubborn you can almost

feel it in the back of your throat,


clinging there like the mucus clod

you can’t seem either to swallow down 


or cough up?


 

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