Fool’s Gold

About seven years ago
I forgot how to be funny,
as all humor leaked from me
like water from a cracked vase.
Wit and truth
have become the gold of repair,
veining me up and down
and holding me together.
I could not have mended without
my infinite joking words;
now they burst from me
like fresh-cut bouquets.
They are ephemeral,
but their brightness
lasts long enough.


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