I dream of a spacestation –
more like a bus-stop, a layover
en route to Scotland or Florida
or Mars. We are both children
watching people in helicopters
on Earth trying to save a big blue
whale that floats balloon-like on water
and just won’t sink; I used to imagine
fear as the common denominator
for all emotions, that sentences
were formulas, punchlines, flowcharts.
I wanted to believe that it all adds up.
Soon enough, I’m back to counting
down spiderbites and goosepimples
all over your little crossed girl
legs. Too close to the heat, the mind
bending pinch of falling home. Re-entry
is eye-opening. I watch you
sleep. Even fire obeys this silence.
Buffalo Carp, 2006