But I would rather have done what I have done
Basically, I got as old as I could.
Now I am myself as I always was,
disguised as myself as I have become.
Same as when I open the front door
and the outside rushes in, displacing what’s inside.
Such a relief to be able
to head down the sidewalk of my habitual
interior, where rain-crazed sparrows sound
like the beginning of a good idea,
and brown-speckled gum-pink fallen camellia blossoms
show up everywhere like failures
that hope at least to be instructive.
Three-year-olds gather them now
and shake them over each other to see what happens.
How do both invention and decision
move a body while pulling in opposite directions?
And why is the stillest moment the one of transition?
Now is the time to let out all my breath
so that I can sink to the very bottom and sit
uncertainty, certainty, uncertainty—
I know what comes next but sometimes
I have to come all the way down here to see it.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 23, Issue 1.
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