The collaborator and the carriage

The fruit tree in the pardoned yard
said, “you love regret. Why are
you at this symmetry?”

“a carriage. a lawn cycle. a measuring
rod. all keepsakes from our forgotten
temple dress rehearsal.”

“come clean,” said the neighbor,
“you have tea in bed. How bad
can it be?”

“for the moment, you’re right,” I answered,
“for the moment I am a form like Joseph
collaborated.”