I always grieve for those caught between
a rock and and hard place.  No matter how
they turn, they knock a knee or scrape a nose.

Not us.  With you I am always between
a rock and a soft place.  Our joined hands
are a rock, paper, scissors game.  Rock:

a kind of cave dwellers home, the warm, red
earth of your arms, pueblo-like.  Paper:  all
the books we’ve read to each other.  Scissors:

you know when to cut our losses; I tend
to endure.  Between us--what is it?  Comfort.
But a cat is good for that.  Happiness,

which could also be a day at any
amusement park.  Whatever it is, 
it has grown over time, is more than I

thought at twenty-something and also less
than nothing--we are so twinned by time.

 Paula Schulz

Paula Schulz

Paula Schulz has been involved in several ekphrastic collaborations.  She has taught grades pre-K through college, lives and writes in Slinger, Wisconsin, with her husband, Greg.