photo: linda back mckay
LIFE WAS
NOT MUCH DIFFERENT WHEN
by
Linda Back McKay
I
was more of what I am, with all the sorrow.
I was what I saw in the pond and the pond
was gravely literal. It insinuated itself
I was what I saw in the pond and the pond
was gravely literal. It insinuated itself
into
my dream. I dreamed of my grandson
as the night slid away and the sky lightened
as the night slid away and the sky lightened
and
memory faded with the stars.
He is some of what I was in my candlelight
as he learns his colors and letters. Soon
he will examine cells under a microscope
and familiarize himself with the art of coding.
May he have what I never had. Scaffolding,
infrastructure, blueprints to navigate
a mountain range. He already knows
he will really be something. I know
shades of orange and gold and the star
above him. Now and then someone persuades
the sun to fold itself behind a muff of clouds,
He is some of what I was in my candlelight
as he learns his colors and letters. Soon
he will examine cells under a microscope
and familiarize himself with the art of coding.
May he have what I never had. Scaffolding,
infrastructure, blueprints to navigate
a mountain range. He already knows
he will really be something. I know
shades of orange and gold and the star
above him. Now and then someone persuades
the sun to fold itself behind a muff of clouds,
despite
its brilliant tendencies.
The times were not much different when
I decided to turn here instead of going there.
When his turn comes, he will pop the top
and let loose the fireflies.
~
previously published in The Next Best
Thing (Nodin Press)
