Poem by Tricia Knoll

Have a Good Yesterday
February 24, 2022

The young man took the box from my hands,
my box of unworn new boots, old pillow cases,
a rooster whirligig, and a sweater I never wore.

I listened to him. A good yesterday, he said.
Perhaps it was. Six F-35s tore the air apart
in drills, but so did crows heading to the dump.

I stood still on ice. A good yesterday? I asked.
He smiled, A good rest of your day. The sun glistened
up the ice. I had found a home for what I never

needed. No one threatened being a nuclear power.
But that was yesterday. Now thugs roll tanks.
Today my hands hold cold air.