Sometimes we count ourselves
like eggs before they’re hatched,
like chickens in the coop before the fox
has even been born. We pride ourselves
on keeping up appearances, on the length
of our stride, on the color of our eyes in photographs
from long ago. You and I were never so lucky
as roulette wheels and scratch tickets and slot
machines. Sometimes we land on our feet
like cats always do, like birds falling from
great distances and everyone thinks they’re
just flying, just swooping low. We take all we can
get and still feel a wanting deep in the pits
of our stomachs. You and I once tasted the
divine and said it tasted like burnt sugar,
like gravity after it was discovered. Sometimes
we place question marks after all of our sentences
like mystery novels, like jokes without punch lines. We
once tried to explain the meaning of life but it came out
sounding like we were singing show tunes.
You and I are lost in the woods and we keep circling
gods until we have nowhere left to search.
This poem rose out of a freewrite where I imposed several restrictions on myself including a pretty short time limit. I’m not sure I like the overall poem, but think it might be interesting for revision.