The height of this library ceiling
dwarves my aspirations.
For Ingrid Jonker
the ticker says,
a term for the outer edge of the peninsula
of risk. Yeah, the edge where
this little piggy says “Pure adrenaline…,”
doesn’t feel the bleeding elbow yet he
thought was jump a bump. The God
of Risk seduces you with a RUSH,
abandons you the same way.
Here is the boat you’ve always wanted.
with the red sail. Shy away.
“BLACK BUTTERFLI” the ticket says
inscrutably meaning “Y”. Done for space?
They flutter at the screen door. (Hear them?)
They mean what you want them to mean.
Had a jolly time feeding the birds
in the little park across the street.
Pigeons, sparrows and starlings. The starlings
dive for the bread in mid-air! The
sparrows dive-bomb it and the pigeons
clustered and clumped around the big pieces.
A squirrel came over and took a piece from my
hand and put its little paw on my finger. Then
a rat, a little dazed, came out and I threw a stick at it
so it didn’t get any crumbs.