Boat

I wonder how I'll transform
this idea
in to something which
others can
see, hear, feel
These red maps course around
secretly and in my roots
collapse, grow, percussive-like
fire lights through my eyes
to yours
to the world.

I wonder how I'll transform
this idea
while the Earth grumbles
oscillating between metaphor
and actual
wild fires burn the everglades
rivers rage like hormones
and we look at each other.

I wonder how I'll transform
this idea
through the smoking mirrors
that show my architecture
I have orbited the Sun
32 times
32 yarns I have told
knitted together for a future
as a present.

I wonder how I'll transform
this feeling
into skin that sits
watching like a dome of stars
I'm grateful for going through
the motions
The crickets' hindlegs are unaware
they're twitching.

The world is a pair of eyes
that sit on me
and the stool legs dig into soil
for answers
And we wait. Or we wait.
Then we wait
Like rotting wood on a beautiful boat.