Via Engage, via Harry Place
The Best of All Possible Worlds
The best of all possible worlds is asleep
having turned in for the night.
It is dreaming of snow a mile deep.
The best of all possible worlds contemplates
its own reflection in the mirror,
its eyes two enormous plates.
The best of all possible worlds is at the bus stop
in a steady shower of rain
watching water fall, drop by drop.
The best of all possible worlds is tired
of waiting for the promised improvements.
It has run out of things to be desired.
The best of all possible worlds becomes
a nervous, clumsy abstraction
all fingers and thumbs.
The best of all possible worlds is a dark star
in a universe of its own making,
muttering: things are fine as they are.
Things are fine as they are, says the sun on the wall
Things are fine as they are, says the cold in the bones
Things are fine as they are in the best of all possible worlds.
It is sunny. It is Thursday. There is a light wind. This too is a possible world.
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