The tender things are those we fold away.
The lover who didn’t stay, would not say why.
The nephew who’d be the perfect son if only
he could stop drinking. A crow who eats berries
off your front porch until he doesn’t. A mother
who remembers the girl you were at 17,
and only talks to that child even when she’s 53.
A sister who believes every cuss word is
a demon to cast out. A husband who thinks
every bad day at work is a reason to cheat.
You’d like the world to try a little tenderness—
except that now Dolly Parton is dead, and today
you needed any ray of sunshine—
so you reach the end of a cassette, hit rewind.
Janette Schafer is a poet, photographer, playwright, and realtor living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She holds an MFA in Poetry from Chatham University. She is the author of three collections of poetry and the chief editor of two poetry anthologies. Her writing and photographs have appeared in numerous journals, newspapers, and websites, including Vox Populi, The Missouri Review, The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, and SWWIM. She is a winner of the Academy of American Poets Prize.
