Lucky we are
walking under these leaves, which provide us
their yellow-green translation of light, to find
the humble cliff and the valley
spread out beneath us like the man I was sure
I would become. Soon
you will face much of what has become me
through my own experience. I give this
to you as evidence of value.
For entertainment, I can offer: odd light
refracting through intricate paper cutouts
in the museum of puppetry. These landscapes
rotate for us, lenses wafting ephemera
in predetermined directions.
Is that a skull peering from underneath
the circus tent? Is it a man
walking the vertical wire, and falling, holding on?
Alighting on the walls: the ghosts spin themselves
with light out of shadow. Fit this story
inside a matchbox and it can be unfolded again
with discretion and care. Let every girl
be the protagonist of the story. We are here
and we are going onward. And every day
I will reconcile this with you.