Disinterested in the service
she used to sit mesmerized
mostly at the lights streaming
specifically at her face
she might be getting hesitant
to share a space with so many
others there to partake in
a meal and communion together
she runs to the nursery where
covetous of donated toys
she insists on bringing home
from time to time she eats
a pickle and chocolate chip
cookie asking for another
we have to go back to
the dining room I say
suddenly uninhibited by shyness
she runs for the second cookie
and finds her mother to sit
by her side just in time for
prayer she knows to place
her hands together not just
in thanks or saying grace
not even to imitate these faces
bowed with closed eyes I know
she keeps her eyes open
repeating most of the words
to the prayer we haven’t even
specifically taught her to know
I remember being the shyness
of her age myself somehow
I don’t remember this openness
that makes me realize this ritual
probably does not come from
without or even a mirror of
what we think we should obey
there is a sweetness and we seem
to know where it comes from
we run to the room and our
bodies know how to do the rest
-
Host
-
Speech
These days our child in the other room
wakes before we do speaking aloud
a silly dialogue from a silly song
some phrases she is familiar with
like “stop the music” or “I can dance”
or “say peas” but others must be
purely phonic I doubt she understands
the full implications of “polka party”
or “I’ll show you no comprendo”
but she has them all memorized and
her articulation is immaculate
as we groggily smile ourselves awake
wondering what she’s on about
We may be relying on stories and songs
from other media to fill the hours
on days relenting in their emptiness
she learns so much even from our
knowing embrace of conscious choices
echoing throughout the house
One day I’ll let her know today
I was distracted paying attention to phrases
that should be committed to memory
extemporized into history
25 hours of words making good trouble
-
Psycho Killer
Working under the assumption
things can’t possibly have taken
place as long ago as they are
like that song on the radio basic
arithmetic dictates occurred half
a century ago until we heard it
because somehow we missed
all the intervening years moments
as lost as long as that one endures
because experienced just a second
ago who is to say we are the ones
who live life as it is lived not the clock
that is always two faced one hand
moves much slower than the other
my face resembles my youth just
as much as my aged father did
now I can’t count how many faces
I see in my child at every age there
seem so many even as we count
on less than one hand the years
that pass asking where did they go
where do we go now
-
Hide and Seek
Nothing
prepared us
although in
retrospect I
might have
guessed
the cutest
phrase from
her mouth
would be
READYORNOT
HEREICOME
-
Perspective ’24
A battalion of
leaf blowers
has descended
on our townhouse
community. I’m choosing
to regard it
as a harbinger of
long deferred maintenance
on our democracy,
rather than
a potential airborne
toxic event.
-
Too Fast
Looking at photos from almost
a year ago knowing how much
you’ve grown how much
you will grow how many moments
between the ones we remember
to capture the ones we don’t
see with our own eyes the only
conclusion I’ve reached is that
you’re growing too fast
there is no way to keep up with
the changes we witness and adjust
to every day the words to the songs
we half know in the morning
some harmonic resurgence
that cannot be explained by
the songs we all know to sing
together that somehow all scan
to Twinkle Twinkle ABCs all
of a sudden I see you seeing
Mister Rogers at the piano you go
from your thumb in your mouth
to arms outstretched admonishing me
to put down the unreflective glass
between my thumbs and please
dance with me daddy so I stand
and we dance around and around
to the music for awhile sometimes
slow and sometimes fast and I think
I can’t take a picture my hands are full
tonight I sang a song I don’t think
I’ve sung since the days when Pop-Pop
was dying days you cannot possibly
remember but the song you do remember
I’m being followed by a Moonshadow
you sing along you remember that song
Pop-Pop loved that song you echo
in my arms it all goes too fast and soon
you are fast asleep in my arms at last
-
Puddle Sand
Summer so dry
the child had not discovered
a rain puddle until today
Even now the only one left
on this block as droplets
evaporate in the pavement
Static clouds overhead
keep us outside
she tramps the small
Collection of molecules
until they disperse
along with the leavings
Of trees punctuating
her hand motion
through the puddle
She might stay all day
is what I’m thinking
as we recall together
The day’s happenings
she repeats the refrain
what did we do today
I punctuate each moment
sometimes with a kiss
as between verses
Of a song she sometimes
does not want to end
I want her to remember
So many kisses
she thinks of them as
numerous as grains of sand
That shift and settle
punctuating the ocean
part of the water the same
-
The Wheels on the Bus
Now you sing along
even to songs
we don’t sing very much
I forgot about the book
of unknown
origin on the shelf
hand me down or thrift
store makes no
difference you understand
a song so singalongable
the wheels never
not go round and round
you raise your hands
at the close of
every verse punctuating
your own singing with
gestures of
exclamation making
easy the decision to
start over
again from the beginning
another chance to make
with your limbs
echoing your voice
your own refrain
your song
-
At Lunch Today
While recording the world’s most hilarious
video of a toddler at their highchair
in the known universe I marveled at
the facial recognition software pre installed
that allowed us to volley wow faces
and giggles in an ad hoc infinite
loop that might have gone on forever you
didn’t even abruptly announce all done
we traded grimaces side eyes smiles and oohs
like we invented them no idea what prompted
such an improvisatory outpouring of emotion
must have just been in the mood to let it out
all the mirror exercises peek a boomerang
toomerang soomerang all laugh & laugh again
-
Afternoon Dream
Thrift store full of
increasingly upscale
guitars and equipment
my mind spends
the bulk of my nap
trying to assemble
bells and wires that
have come unattached
when hung up the string
resembles numbers
from zero to nine
even in my dreams
I’m unpacking toys
from folded boxes
molded plastic
and wires not made
for fingers to untie
the child puts two
and two together
unwinds the screw
except gets upset
to see them apart
Joshua Keiter 