This poem is a day, light slanting through blinds
sun on a northern lake, fishing with a hook attached to a stick
playing baseball for hours, a fat cat winding around legs
wilderness hikes, canoeing, falling further and further behind
This poem asks questions no one else will verbalize
brings a stab of pain, causes awkward silence
This poem is playing roughhouse on the floor
with a daughter who learns to fight back. She giggles
swats at the poem’s head. It always lets her win
never makes her feel powerless
This poem is an entire galaxy of curiosity, separation, regret
It’s walking down the street talking about Darwin’s theories
sucking on a piece of milk chocolate
while keeping a Hacky Sack from touching the sidewalk
This poem is programming the first portable computer
to repeat simple patterns. It’s playing your first video game:
ASCII symbols arranged into rooms of a castle, monsters
only visualized by closing your eyes
This poem is the bright onslaught of our lives
It will not live forever, but I need it to
What would any of this mean without a poem that questions everything
loves with tendrils that stretch across a continent
does not say no, except in anger