Tonight,
I am vast. I contain
a barren sidewalk. A city
block. A knot of sparrows.
One handful of bread.
No matter what I do
with my hands
there is still the life that wants
no part of me. No matter
what I do with the girl
there she is.
//
The girl drops an O into the slit.
A door opens & out falls the world, sweet
& tacky as the sugar flossing her tongue.
Who went & made the girl an emperor?
Who gave her that scepter?
Who told her speak & her will be done?
//
I swear, there was a story
but each time I reached out
the words grew
feathered—
let’s suppose it was a trap-
door all along.
Let’s suppose it was a glass
of water. Let’s suppose
I looked down a long hallway
& turned back.
//
You know, whoever said
that thing about words & stones
must have never been a child
who had only words
& stones & a river to walk
toward, pockets full of both.