FLIGHT

My grandfather Joe's first wife's

Great-great grandfather 

Could, witnesses say,

Fly or, at the very least,

Drift upwards off the ground.

In Joe's eyes you could see 

The thought that the trick 

Was to pretend that gravity

Was something you obeyed.

RETURNED

Hieronymo Sparafucile 

Returns to Mantua

Sings his own name

Offers to work

As an assassin. 

His shadow

Struts four steps behind,

Through nights

Moonless and overcast 

Playing a ridiculous flute

Picked up on their travels.

DRIFTER

Having lost  his home 

In the afterlife 

My grandfather Joe 

Spends nights nights 

In unused dreams, 

Falling asleep among the props.

Mermaids have never 

Figured much in my dreams 

Working sometimes 

In supporting roles.

Joe has begun teaching

A few of them to play chess.

PRUDENCE

From the Swat Valley a Buddha

Was brought by Vikings to Sverige

Since these were times 

When no wise man or god

Walked about unprotected, 

He was found wearing

Some pieces of leather armor.

TRANSLATION

 

Yesterday my granddaughter 

Spent seven minutes learning

The language of cats. 

(You learn Cat quickly 

Or not at all.) Testing her,

I told a story; line after line

She translated it into

Mews, growls, purrs and hisses.

The tortoise-shell feigned sleep

But was, I assume, spellbound, 

When poets drop by to point out

That they win medals,

Get published, know what rhymes

With orange, I'll answer, "True but

"Which of your works

Has been translated into Cat?"

ON THE BORDER

 

The Chicago train left between 3 and 4

In the afternoon and arrived about 10

The next morning. At some point

Near the westmost edge of Indiana

Time moved back to repeat an hour.

If I want to visit myself as I was,

An hour spent not here or there 

Between wake and sleep will do

So long as I remember that he,

Has his own absorbing concerns 

(Not least the girl sleeping next to him

Her dark head against his shoulder)

And no intent in particular 

Of growing up to be me.

AN OLD PHOTOGRAPH

I remember the ball; six stars

Evenly spaced, separated by

A double chevron stripe 

At the equator. In the picture 

My brother -- I'm not born yet --

Sits well back on a couch;

His feet don't reach the edge. 

The ball's in a pot, the pot's 

On his lap, carefully held.

Read his eyes: "Ball, you and Pot

Must stand by me always."