~*~
Sing The Long Song With My Children
I calculate trajectories
of furniture and appliances
in a cinematic crash and slide,
like the visionary god-helps-those-
who-help-themselves survivors
of that great upside-down turning,
The Poseidon Adventure.
The secret harbor for the morning after
lies coded in furious notes
ready for cracking,
somewhere between “Think about love
when the earth opens” and “touch each other
when it swallows me whole.”
I practice the arts
of close-enough sock matching,
of grace and punctuality in a house
that threatens to tip in a gale
and remember the long song we have made.
May other voices join and lift
when brilliance fades.
~*~