. . . and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. Hamlet
She lent him her night
but he kept it
in the unfinished garage
with the tin cans
of rusty screws,
the empty Mason jars
bequeathed by his mother
and the hedge clippers
too dull to trim
the forsythia. She knew
when she asked for it back,
he would look at her
and say What night
are you talking about?
