seat.
she widens out atop it.
when she is seated I have something
I watch. I watch her fill required
seat time. my matrilinear resplendence
includes no one who sits.
we relish momentum as the sole
prevention of deep sadness
twinned with deeper quiet
nobody would likely recognize
in any one of us.
I have no child. she has a special
car seat where I place her.
when I drive around she shows me
she can sing.
I offer lessons in good voice.
I speak in many syllables.
she rhymes. she poems sweet
lyrics into my matched song.
one of these days suspicious beauty
will run from her mouth, and she will
sound exactly likely my mother
of the titian hair approaching
white no one would ever see.
tonight the countertops were taken off
and covered with a formal stone.
we seek imperfection that we might join
the probability of retracting
every way of speaking that failed
to fit naturally into this flow.
before I tell you too much
about my present tense, let me
remind you I am seasoned
and I know the lingo.
miscreants as we would call them,
often betrayed the individual
in power, believing that charisma
is a latent fire that reproduces
beyond inherent candle power.
when I am being who I am
there is no pause in motion
except within myself.
you may decide to call me
immanent. or you may notice
that the moment has been full of me.
that my question will have lingered
where the thought is now,
and where the heart will stay.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
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