She cannot walk
parking garage to whirling world.
She freezes on cement incline,
sliver of a hill.
“Cheryl, can you get me home?”
No pain
but fear of it
collapsing her heart
clogged by calsified rock.
This is the solution:
that is the requirement:
that all pain has a name,
that all people have a first and a last,
that all misery has an end.
Memory cannot be destroyed,
is not a shtick,
is not forbidden fruit.
Paradise is tomorrow.

Janet Wong, Class of 1996