News

Maybe the sperm lugged it along from the dim past
when it crashed into the egg. What had gone wrong,
what switch switched at the least opportune moment?
What moment in my childhood was the final, unbearable
one? Which breeze blowing the sprayer chemicals back
in my face? I kept on living forever until it was too late
for that. Last night we left the window open
and Wally the cat spent the night, apparently, watching
what he wanted but could never have.
We with our big bodies hugged the bed, sleeping
though the news we wanted to refuse, anyway.
Wouldn’t we have murdered in our minds
the Syrian government troops, wouldn’t we have yelled
at the kids who painted graffiti on the bridge?
But Wally said why howl at the moths on the screen?
Why not just remain wakeful to the inscrutableness
of spring’s open window? He didn’t really say this.
The overhead fan was turning and I couldn’t hear
what he said. My mind was on a little train.
I was eating my lunch on the train, spilling onions
from my sandwich. I had a banana, too. No, a big yellow
bus I mistook for a banana. And the onions,
something not quite right, oh yes, it was the world
coming back to me. The school bus rumbling
on our brick street, full of kids who don’t yet know
how long the past will last as their bodies grow.