A Balance Sheet

From my father’s family I inherit
this long face and a need for facts,
on my mother’s side a delight in
tales where the hero slays the dragon.
The mirror repeats my age and shows
the wrinkles of my discontent.
I am tangled in webs of habit.
I eat an apple each day, dress up
on Sunday, make love at full moon,
share as much as I borrow, brush
my teeth before I read the headlines,
drink my coffee black with toast.
My files bulge with notes from
committee meetings, I keep a
running account of my expenses.
This stencil for living stamps my work