aren't most days

a variation on a theme, seeing

what you saw yesterday

in a different guise, slightly altered

red shoes instead of blue

isis instead of al qeada

marlboro instead of camel

downton instead of masterpiece

little changes that might

work their way into a poem, here or there.

but this image, this is new

and i can't wrap my head around it,

not yet. at this point, i'm only thankful.

the poem can come later.

~~~

i don't mean to write a little poem that is obscure. at the same time i don't want to be specific. something happened yesterday out of the ordinary. not to me, but on the horizon of my world. something distant. something scary.

~~~

i'm going home for a few days. see my family, collect my thoughts. keep your eye on babycakes, make sure she doesn't do anything i wouldn't do. 

i should reprhase that, there isn't much i wouldn't do. i meant something like this: when i was little, in kindergarten or first grade, we sang a song in music which always made me feel funny, kind of safe in a way i didn't understand. it went something like:

i looked over Jordan and what did i see
comin' for to carry me home
but a band of angels comin' after me
comin' for to carry me home

swing low, sweet chariot

comin' for to carry me home

swing low, sweet chariot 

comin' for to carry me home

~~~

which i conflated with a prayer my mother sometimes said:

now i lay me down to sleep
i pray the Lord my soul to keep
if i die before i wake
i pray the Lord my soul to take

~~~

i didn't know what a "chariot" was, i thought the teacher was saying "cherries,"

and, doing the best i could would with that, and hearing my mother say the prayer as i fell asleep, i thought of angels watching over me, and cherries taking me home.

~~~

so, please, watch over babycakes, all you angels and cherries. she's very young. say a little prayer for us. and for something distant, unknown, on the horizon.