Poetry Breakfast (Online) April 2016
Just before I wake up it’s Friday
and a child I’ve never met
living in my old house by the river
takes a walk to the dark bank
withdraws a gold nugget
small as his infant sister’s eyeball
bigger than all the false gold
he’d ever found there before—
but this time it’s the real thing
and the kid looks astonished
has no idea what will happen next
and I’m a little startled too
I wake up thinking liquid
liquidity, liquefaction.