The Cormorant’s Apology
“Let it roll off your back like water,”
the mallard said to me.
“But water doesn’t roll off my back,”
I said,
“It seeps in and fills the spaces in my feathers.
I couldn’t dive otherwise,
and I dive deep,
and I stay down a long time,
and whether or not I’ve brought anything back,
by the time I surface,
I’m exhausted, wet, and cold,
and I can’t fly or even swim
until I’ve stood off by myself
and dried out.
I’m not a duck.”
* * *
Small Infinities
Why can’t I play too?
Everyone’s outside
Playing ball
And here I am,
Looking out
The bay window
With the aspidistra,
Practicing my violin,
Scales, arpeggios,
Air on the G String
(I’d rather be airing out someone’s g-string).
Then I hear it,
In the spaces
Of the melody,
The infinity between 1 and 2.
