Autumn at the Lost and Found

by G. H. Smith

If you go looking for the devil,
you will find him.

Even on a sunny day
by all accounts ablaze with piety.

Even in the sanctuary of your dreams.
(There’s sanction for pretending.)

If you go looking,
what can you expect?

Two ride out, one rides back
is the story of dangerous waltzes.

But not to yield
is a damnation too,

to hunker in the junker of a bunker
watching the endless war on the news.

What we do with the evidence,
our embered shoes, those ashes around the heart,

tells the more telling tale.
It’s worth remembering:

at least if you find him,
you’ll know someone new.