(this is an old poem of mine I have uncovered…. Enjoy, Dear Reader, this blast from Cupcake’s past)
It starts with a joke, a half memory of an idea
for a film in which Hobbits reenact Die Hard.
This inevitably leads to a thought of the One
Ring spinning through the air; a plummeting arc
of flashing metal and this reminds me of the way
mirrors in sunlight sent patterns across the face of
Dorothy Gale that time she tried to help Ozma
out; the moment of her hands entering the silvered glass
and the girl who stepped through.
Its reflections now that make me wonder; I’ve
always liked the way that in water they can ripple
and a tossed pebble can break apart a face.
There was all that time spent by Lake
Superior where I tried to learn how to skip stones;
I never managed to get the perfect flick of the wrist
down and so, inevitably, my stones would just arc
and then plunge. The stones would never
walk on water for me. Then there’s that lizard,
the ones who dashes across water, the one
who moves faster than the effect of his weight.
Lizards lead me to Godzilla; I imagine him
sometimes when he first finds a city. It must have
looked so startling; the endless lights of the buildings
seeming so much like stars pulled down to our level.
And stars? I’ve never seen one shooting across the sky;
a fact that seems unbelievable for all of the time
I’ve spent watching the sky. That seems like
something only a person in a poem would
have ever not experienced.