Joshua Keiter

The large red cardboard blocks
lay strewn upon the carpet 
after building them up 

then knocking them down
along with some books 
she had been throwing 

then she placed the books neatly 
lined up at the edges of 
the blocks as if to repair them 

“It’s fixed!” she exclaimed 
as she pulled more books off 
the shelves onto the waiting blocks 

already she knows how to build 
how to destroy 
and what it will take to heal

Why so much running?

You run after preschool 
in the church nursery 
through strewn toys on the floor

You run with the neighbors 
in an impromptu race 
around the neighborhood 

You run through songs 
you’ve heard so many times 
you make new words out of them 

Daddy is tired just thinking about 
how much you’re running mostly 
because you take my hand and say 
run with me Daddy and no matter 
what I’m doing it is not as important 
as running with you while I can 
while we both still can although 
I might take a short cut and walk 
with bigger strides than you just 
to conserve energy doesn’t matter 
you still catch up to me and win 

My mother says she no longer sees 
me in my daughter 
and I can sort of see what she means 

some features that once resembled 
me at that age 
have been obscured by 

features of my father or brothers 
or grandmother 
or aunts or uncles or cousins 

and of course my mother herself 
my daughter stares
back at the reflection of herself 

in the corner of the screen 
as she waves kisses 
goodbye at the end of a facetime 

sometimes I catch a screenshot 
of them making 
the same pose at the same time 

later I’ll take a video just 
to remember 
what she was like at this time 

and wonder what she’ll think 
of herself back then 
when she grows up and groans 

at watching the family videos 
which I’m sure 
I’ll insist on from time to time 

already she sees herself waving 
in the screensaver 
at herself she recognizes 

all the faces she has been 
as if everyone 
who once lived that she might live 

are still living