These cumulus clouds look like rungs on a ladder I wish I could climb
effortlessly, higher and higher until my shadow is only
an echo of a whisper on the ground. If I close my eyes I can pretend they will take me
directly to each of you- mama with her honey heart, Pitzy and his whistling S’s,
Bobby with his brazen guffaw, dad with his thin lips, and Annie
running but still laughing at the night.
Up there Winter is a crystalline ocean of light, frozen perfectly
for the eyes of the poet the barker the jester the fool. Up there Summer is
a drop of dew at the corner of an angel’s mouth. She says hello to you
and waves goodbye to me. It’s not time. There are no clouds
solid enough or close enough to hold me. I blink
ignoring the sour notes of the trumpets, and agree to wait.