Orlando –  Alyse Knorr

No mountains today. No

trees or hats or scones.

An old friend tells me

a story: after her daughter’s

dance recital, she and her wife

give their flowers

to another couple—two

women with a daughter

who fell, mid-pirouette.

How can one world hold

such grace and such rage?

How does anyone stand?

The cat who knows sorrow

crawls into my lap,

but she does not sleep.