Before They Banned Walking
Conversely, his stride was narrow
his knees swishing together the jeans
their tattered bottoms showing ankle sock
you can’t tell what he’s thinking but you
imagine it is rather like what you
would think, balancing on a metal beam
with wide arms and Chuck Taylor’s
letting your gaze up only for moments,
like a ballerina spotting, like a swimmer gulping,
you find your thoughts following your feet
an accelerating rhythm of patter, a false step,
a gasp of sight-
Retirement
And I won’t have to do dishes again
In that nursing home under the waves,
Where mariners sink to the surface
When their stomachs fill with
Sodden gases, lord I hope you stick around until then,
Although I can carry ashes like you said,
I could dip them in with my poisoned body
And flipping canoe but no,
I fully intend on chasing you down at some point.
Eating a little leavened bread
Under the candlelight of astronomers,
I would put an arm around you
Or your ashes
The ink in our skin would be faded;
Time is intent on being difficult.
I would tell you, I suspect,
That moths still make me nervous,
And that you are a spine encased in poetry
And I hope we would be on a hill of some sort
But I can take that
Or leave it.
Our scars will have multiplied.
Our lungs may be cracked,
But our lips would crack open.
