“George” by Arthur Huang

It’s not easy to wake up every morning to be George,
to have the strength to greet the day, to see with clarity,
feeling more than one can think.

To slowly and gently fix a collar spread—
stiff, but quite perfect.

To pluck splintered cedar trees
from brogue leather tips and to raise with horsehair,
strands of invisible thread,

and then to tie a bow—
loose and even, as if tailored on the fly.
Seamless it must look, to know how to be.