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


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