I have known too long that promises
care about
nothing
They pack up and move on like the mice of Parisian
youth hostels

The corner of liminal is where they live
mostly
They form nearly invisible webs over door jams
and rings of dust around door knobs

Yet they exist
and people think they are so cute in cartoons or rom coms
but in the real world they are unwelcome
refugees of hope and love tended to carefully at first
forgotten when virtue wrinkles under the weight
of all that back bending and time spending

How can promises care when they see so
plainly our middling
willingness to accept less than we ever said we would
and our reproach at ever thinking we had any right to more

Declarations are loud and celebrated
epideictic
Promises are quiet and shadowboxed
clothed in shame and spite
There. Apparent. But never bathed in light

I have hoped too much that my promises find that place for us
a field where they put down roots
where they find peace in their old ages
where they gather together to tell stories
of me
young bold courageous

Title borrowed from “Be A Lion” by Charlie Smalls for The Wiz