What if, for one day

4.12

I remember Mr. Zacur explaining

the different between kinetic and potential energy.

What is in us is so much more than what is of us.

If you could see inside me:

dreams mortared with pliant hope,

and thousands of thin whirling spindles.

At night I dream in song, quote ancient texts.

I run through forests at high speeds.

Sometimes I wake up thinking

I could build sanctuaries out of airplane fins

and spider silk, serve a communion meal

of fig juice and bird seed on tin can platters.

It’s not hard to imagine everything worthy

of blessing and consecration,

even on this rainy evening, all I see is white.

What if, for one day, we could meet

our full selves, press our fingers against

stone and make song, drum our fists

to create radiant light, open out mouths

and transmit fissionable wisdom.

My skin is tense, my brain itching,

so much is stored up, perched.   

Life may be half over, but I am

still humming with natal faith.