Wild Zooms

after Mary Oliver’s “Wild Geese”

You do not have to be on camera. 

You do not have to stare into the screen

for a hundred hours through the meeting, smiling. 

You only have to let the soft animal of your body 

exist behind your screen. 

Turn your video off, and I will turn off mine too. 

Meanwhile life goes on. 

Meanwhile the dishes in the background clink, and a dog barks,

and I can’t see your slides,

and I can’t hear you either, 

I think you are on mute, could you try again? 

Meanwhile a distant sound feedbacks through an unmuted mic, 

echoing back and forth in the void. 

Wherever you are, no matter how distant, 

the world asks for your attention, 

your response by Friday at 4:30 PM, urgent and oblivious, 

over and over demanding your presence

in the hollowness of things.

Looking ahead

after Bob Hicok’s “Learning to swim”

At seventeen, to be given time,

which is to most people, given youth

in years, which is for most of me, given duty,

which is most of what I am, here, where minds

don't stray from lists, to be running behind

one step ahead. Giving everything

for this, gratitude, or this, passion, or this,

obligation, that you would take

if needed by a date, any date, or for somebody,

anybody, or a favour, for which

a red line sits that would push me

if I needed pushing, in a crisp outfit, as if edges

are the lines of goals, as I do,

need pushing, for heavy things,

most of all, their weight.