Nostalgically excited
in advance
for the fact of a preschool
Scholastic Book Fair
perhaps to provide
formative moments of
generational wonder
for our toddler
I am afraid the experience
of multiple tables
of books with interactive
elements embedded like
a camera and flashlight
not to mention
sensory delight such that
I thought was only possible
when seen retroactively
through the lens of
collective shared near
sugar high levels of bliss
at paper products so
generously arrayed
made her overwhelmed
lying on the floor
with her chosen book
grasped in hands
too tired from the regular
schedule of events
that to her senses even
before nostalgia arrives
in her mind was already
rather extraordinary
Tag: Books
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Book Fair
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Bedtime Routine
The child has gotten into
the habit of asking
for a full account of
what happened each day
as part of the process
of getting ready for sleep
sometimes long after
sleep should have arrived
inevitably I revise myself
as I go through the morning
routine playtime lunch nap
walk playground neighbors
dinner sometimes bath
and the protracted lurching
towards something that
resembles bed readiness
tiny moments my mind
somehow recollects even
as I lull at least myself
to sleep with song
today for instance I forgot
to mention how we stopped
on the way out of the library
for a new slate of board books
to appreciate the statue of
a book emblazed with hearts
each one uniquely illustrated
with shapes she recognized
reviewing my camera roll
I wondered how I might have
recounted such a moment
that she should remember
the shape of books and hearts
finding their place within them
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Paper Backs
Surprised by a box of books
from another house barely
surviving forty or fifty years
some spines hardly holding on
some with semi-psychedelic colors
illustrating imaginative renderings
of what could be waiting behind
wrapping paper for a speedy delivery
sweet pickles teaching the alphabet
with unusual animal names
some books had my name inscribed
more than once some also had
my brother’s name crossed out
these hand me downs of hands
flipping pages our child asks
to go back to a book she already
knows her pristine copy dogeared
yes but nothing compares to this
quintessence of dust and glue
even asking for pages far forward
toward the end of the book
she asks in clearest syllables go back
go back
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All Sing
Repeat the word repeated
in the ba- ba- ba- book
not only because every
character
sings the same refrain
but as a way
to say want, turn the cover
in her hands
front ways back ways up-
side down
hold at last planting wet
“kisses”
on the image, sealing
the sound
together with witness
this still new
body hearing infinity
in a syllable
Ah ah ah—Allelu
also with you
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Asterisk Days
Three years ago, we might have had some idea that we were all about to start an interruption of everything.
Three years ago, I had no idea that in a month’s time I would start writing a poem a day—and continue to do so for the next two years.
Some of you followed along, reading and liking each post. (I love you.)
Some of you might have seen the posts with the funny MonthPoWriMo neologisms, and moved right along.
Some of you might be (still? starting to?) figuring out how to process the past three years.
Some of you read/write/discuss poems and poetry. Some of you are indifferent.
Some of you may still be trying to get your sourdough started.
My hope is that this book is for all of you.
Asterisk Days: Poems https://a.co/d/5A5YQf1
Joshua Keiter 