from II. Book of Questions

The book said, let the dream take us—

away from the pain, the incision.

Radiant cutout stars said—we’ll go, too.

There are other people in the world though most stay away—

not knowing what to say.

We’ll ride the swings of youth over the mountains of clarity.

We’ll curl up with our mothers in the sun of car windows—

before we knew, they suffer, too.

The book said, it’s okay to be unreasonable.

The dream said, it’s okay to cartwheel out of your skin.

Some may know about the horses behind the rotting barn.

That the poem looked in the mirror and found you.