Poem

Fidgeting Spirits


We holding halos to the sun
to see if they cast shadows.
Unsure but not alone, we gnats
of the soulfood kitchen.
We bicycles chattering in the wind,
noses combing date-filled pastries,
same noses like rudders in neon musk.
Potlucking afternoons, we sons and daughters,
up to our eyes in watermelon rinds.
We 3 cups 4 cups 5 cups coffee,
lighting May rollies in bed.
Windows flung wide, bussing the day,
open-eyed, love-handled, calling
like birds to the immortal sky.
We saplings lifting our shaky fists,
petitioning rain's amen.
Slivering the light while we can,
stepping out into dusk, listening
for the reverb of dreams.
We soft hallelujahs at the riverside,
tangled in our old tadpole skin.
Itching to ride our thumbs, stare down
that dozing pink flame—

We pillars of salt at the city line.