On Average
It takes a little over eight minutes
for sunlight to travel to Earth,
and a little under eighty years
for people to travel six feet more
down into the root-haired dirt,
freshly dug. The last stretch
is so perilous, we tuck folks
into boxes to keep them safe.
Kalsarikanni
Let's put on our childhood clothes
and walk the secret streets.
Let's remember that in Finland
they have a word that means
drinking at home, alone,
in your underwear. Let's feel
the give in our bones again,
soft and green as flowers stems.
You might not be my sibling.
But you're as close as we both
might get. Let's use the sides
of our hands to scrape forts
out of the road-sand snowplows
left in the gutters, then watch
as they melt in the rain. Let's remember
old songs again. You can tell me
how chessboards lie about
the rules of war, how Mother's
sigh was a descending note
that sharpened into nothingness.
Then we'll each go our separate
ways, slip into our humming
houses, and drink one last pull
of starlight straight from the bottle.
___________________________
Cloudwatcher
The American Poetry Review
2025
