a little hope is a curious thing
enshrined there upon the shelf
dusted off, once and again
sometimes forgotten, but not entirely lost

I can’t bring myself to be rid of it
to toss it out with the trash
though I know that it emits
the signal that ties me to this place

hope will bind me, keep me here
there is no freedom in hope
it is a lure with a long lead
tethering me to maybe and someday

I am not bitter, nor full of regret
(this hope of mine is shared)
like a cheap tourist knickknack,
hope’s replicas grace others’ shelves
as readily as mine

so here’s to hope, that bastard
ingratiated curio, its welcome overstayed
but cherished for its quaint
allure of faint possibilities