We have lost count of words
the toddler among us
gives voice to
sometimes with understanding
such as while watching
Mister Rogers introduce
a bowl of fruit she recognizes
apples say and bananas
of course she’s seen them
and enjoys them most
of the time when she is not
throwing them to the floor
small reminder we are out
and put them on the temporal
mental shopping list
small reminder my father
required a breakfast banana
with a sharp knife
to place coins into his
cereal bowl each morning
a ritual now past
I recall each time
I separate the toddler’s banana
into circles with a dull knife
surely her teeth reaching
into double digits could chew
a more rough hewn portion
split with bare hands
though uniformity satisfies
some elemental recognition
how we know what is good
for us through shapes
circles that round the plate
figured between thumb and
finger signifying okay
sometimes seen through eyes
and when it is time
to place what is given
within and without
O taste and see dear mouth
Category: Poems
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Bananas
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Sudden Forever
So many moments we don’t know
when
if they will be the last
the privilege of growing older
is the curse of knowing
some don’t
and not knowing them well
enough
to recognize the age
crinkling from a photograph
printed on former trees
for a time
waves on the ocean
become clouds
all the time
-
Sleep Song
My voice carried
by sound waves
quiet as possible
to ear of serene
child on the verge
of sleep in my arms
the loudest thing in
the universe right now
barely noticeable
to everything else
how this is evidence
for our existence
how arms resist slightly
descending to bed
clinging to say hold me
before relinquish
holding the notes
steady in her breath
all of being a song
we repeat silently
to ourselves in sleep
-
Now More Than Over
I guess this is just
the way it is now?
Yesterday the hottest
day yet ever?
Every holiday another
forgetting how
to ignore the headlines
hardly elaborated
about the latest
overnight shootings
sometimes in the city
of your birth?
Could the neighbors
hear it above
the sounds of fireworks
in the distance
next door oblivious
participants in
extending traumatic
responses some
may have no outlet
to understand
under the bed?
Eventually all that is
left once the lights
disintegrate as
the smoke dissipates
is air a little bit
harder to breathe
than it was yesterday
-
Trinity
There is a moment
more than one
when the child sees
the light through stained glass
a curtain lowered and raised
the strings vibrating
into empty space
the words reverberating
from the screen
to our lips a silent
recognition as if
obvious we are recreating
in some limited fashion
the domain from which
she has sprung to which
we are constantly returning
witness these peals
of laughter monologues
consisting of what might
become words
in the meantime
beaming at us
a reminder of
where we come from
-
Milestones
I now know that time does not move in the same way without a difference for instance at the checkup while you reach each milestone at a year such as eating things by yourself and pulling to stand with a helping hand how can I be sure I myself have not passed by some demarcation designated by the fullness of my belly after crawling to chase you down the hallway out of breath does that song still mean as much now as it did then? how many more will pass before you get to know them? do the years spent in limbo without any trace of your premonition still feel as desperate? in fact yes they do witness these bread crumbs I continue to brush off my sleeve out of rest the dishes that need solving each evening after repast how is it that you have some idea of a spoon? why do I hold mine with such messy assurance as if I have some gift imparted by the passing hours turned into years I had no idea were mine even as I gave them away to wherever time goes these morsels you grasp so easily now in your hand sometimes they reach your mouth if not they are caught by grace in a bib above your lap
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Year One
A bit surprised by how intensely
the memories come flooding back—
is this why some stay the same
age you were when you met them?
The brilliance of sun today resembling
the euphoria of the drive home
after days in the hospital whose hours
remain somewhat unaccounted for
What did we do when we what did we eat
in those hours when breaths were new
and awkward cries holding your held
atoms radically assembled into grateful arms
Today as the rest of the world wore
unnecessarily fancy hats you tumbled toward
the iPad turning over to see the other side
such familiar faces facing your brightness
Surely they must be there in the flesh
magnetically attached to these radiant absences
how used to living you must be this longest
first year we could not imagine what we did
Where we went who we were going to be
before you suddenly appeared on the other side
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Brown Bear
By the last page
pointing to each figure
she holds my finger
directs it out of order
to hear the sound
images again
I wonder what she sees
my hand or her own
repeating syllables
familiar yet different
signified by shapes
line and color
associated with world
somewhere beyond
the page within reach
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Transitive Property
Appropriate to arrive
at a lack of words
to describe the child
speaking every syllable
in existence
at the presence of
faces on a screen
namely those who spoke
her life into being
the transitive property
of words before
coalescing into
definite statements
pass through this gate
of babbling
for the sake of all
consonants and vowels
to inhabit her activity
knowing all unspoken
will find their voice
in the course of time
the child is still getting used to
Joshua Keiter 