A closer look and a long shot
I am swimming above you.
Water-wing, space-mask, flotation-girdle:
properly suited for message delivery.
A malfunction occurs in the darkness.
I am flying tandem,
twenty pounds of letters behind me,
some folded into octopi or made into stellar spit-balls.
Some written by your magistrates and some by your majesty.
Some by partners in crime and some by the criminals.
Some from the inside and some from the outside.
My trigger cronies, A-Z and their combinations,
fall out. I get lighter. Meteor showers. Things you don’t want to read. Fall out. On your face. A malfunction occurs. Darkness comes down like a spoon. Scoops of earth. Lonely faces look up. Heavy mouths open. The king chews. Before the others get to look. He is the magician.
Syllabic bends curse the wind.
I can see the king’s children below
lined up like pineapple rows.
Boys and girls march ready:
jetpacks with fuel and silly string
strapped to their child spines.
Watch them change the world,
building up like balloons, then whack!.
All weasels now; they weren’t meant to be stars.
Watch them fall down, little punctuators,
hopeful thinkers with pressure blowers and water guns.
They tried. We made them try it.
We tried to rewrite it
with air space and attic access, with backfill
and baskets of caulking, with chip boards
and ductwork. Beams of light and instruments
to measure their illumination,
to give children the indication
that success equals freedom.
All disasters happen overnight.
Wake up and evacuate to the sky—.