Elizabeth Zuba
Left a smoke cloud
so dense
on your pillow
are the same dreams
to contain the fire
only to miraculously resurrect
the speed, the image, castles
the big clouds
big clouds scudding by
finely orienting us
under the sky
and the steady wind
from some giant blast
that sweeps across time
we clutch our photo albums
laptops I wish I had grabbed
my hairbrush, my birth certificate
it may be harder to reach than ever
and my girl? my girl?
has anyone seen my girl?
Thorny and full-blown
almost a testament
to how you feel
in fun-house mirrors
mostly true by awe
the calculus a breakneck speed
the artifice slow broken
so much that you can even see yourself
walking behind you
sometimes
you can even see a bird just beyond reach
flitting and hopping across the lawn
from a child’s outstretched arms
How far will you go?
How long will you hold me?
