I.
At 5 a.m., a woman creeps
downstairs to weigh herself.
Everyone is asleep. Naked,
she holds her breath, steps
onto the cool glass face.
She closes her eyes and imagines
each pound is a sand dollar.
Weight is so much more
bearable when beautiful.
II.
Outside, an old man crouches
in her sunflowers
and cuts three stalks.
He presses his face
up to the big, yellow florets.
Eyes closed, he’s young again.
The woman never notices him.
He never notices her.
As he pierces his axe through
the tough stems,
he glimpses the moon.
When he sees it,
he thinks of a sand dollar:
sharper, whiter,
more exacting than his blade.
