One Lost Sonnet

It’s not waste. It’s loss that haunts
Your poverty—if somehow
With limited means you reach

A moment, obtain a good
That would be costly and hard
To get again, to replace,

You say you don’t want to waste
This, when what you mean is that
You don’t want it to leave you,

Not before you’ve savored it—
Don’t want to lose it, don’t want
To drop what you can’t afford

To reproduce, to get back.
You’d love wasting. You just can’t.