At Last

All the fulsome moments
Overbrimming briefly
With the pleasurable

Sense of tranquility—
When the situation
Holds, it’s a mystery.

If it’s not chemical
Or a change in fortune,
Where does that glow come from?

The poems that break your heart
Tend to the first person.
The poems that break your words,

Or will, one day, will come
From the joy of being
Written in last person.