Control
Watch you dance!
Jump through hoops of fire,
twirl,
cartwheel,
you hit that landing perfectly!
Your gracious appendages moving in tune
To my voice
Perfectly;
Only your eyes betray this image.
The audience does not watch the eyes:
just the dance,
just the performance.
Small, silken threads attached to your limbs guide your body perfectly
To my voice.
No, this dance is not your dance, it is my dance.
My thin, delicate fingers pull the invisible threads
And the audience applauds.
Most threads have broken but no matter
This dance you’ve practiced so many times is memorized so well
You dance anyway:
You move to my song
You move to false creativity
Your mind is blank, no need to think
You and your audience know the lesson all too well:
Just ignore the eyes.
---
Ode to a Carrot
Oy, carrot!
Yum, you!
Bright beauty meets my eyes—swirls
of orange, peppered with earth
(the origin of your/my growth)
with a tuft of brilliant green topping your elongated body.
Truly the beauty of the vegetable world.
Really,
Who would choose the flesh
Of animals
When I could have you?
Crunch—my teeth sink into your flesh
With a sickening crunch.
(crunch crunch)
Hold nothing against me—
For I eat you with love in my heart,
My dear carrot.
Oy, carrot! (crunch)
Yum, you! (crunch)
Truly,
The beauty of the vegetable world.
----
Childhood forgotten
What is beauty anymore?
Have you forgotten,
or do you remember?
Do you remember the softness of a dog’s ears?
(knowing no synthetics could match it)
Do you remember the stars?
(knowing they listened to your tears and laughter)
Do you remember the veins on leaves?
(oh so small! and oh, they look just like mine!)
Do you remember awe?
—No,
We remember mothers grumpily scrubbing dirty hands from petting strays.
We remember being taught that stars are just balls of gas, nothing more, billions of miles away and unattainable.
We remember raking messy, dead leaves into black plastic garbage bags (it’s not like they’re alive anyway).
—No,
We remember education.
We’ve left the beauty of the everyday to the children,
the shadow of a nondescript memory to be lost—
—forever, unless we see children dance once more in our hearts.
Children, learn to teach yourself—let your soul be your teacher.
Adults, learn to be as children and
once again
realize the beauty of the everyday.
