When I was a child, some kids
at school knew how to make ropes
out of clover. Some knew the location
of north and west. They could catch
frogs and fish. Some could predict
when a tooth was ready to be pulled.
Some left lavender sprigs hanging
on the clothesline as they dried.
That was ages ago. Now the powerful
rewrite dictionaries in their spare
time. They aim language like cannons
at the earnest revolutionaries.
Their music is made of emergency
sirens that nobody can hear. Or are
they acting? The assumptions
that fed my childhood are abundantly
dead.
You are the one vine left
in the vineyard. You are the air that we
gulp down, the anxiety medication
that is about to expire. Somewhere
inside your body the seed known
as ‘miraculous’ is lodged between
the liver and kidney. Although dormant
all this time, it will germinate pure
and soon. Your words are a weapon
against the dominating imposters.
Write down the true story but shred it
utterly to avoid punishment. And more.
Robin Reagler is the author of THE ALWAYS, NIGHT IS THIS ANYWAY, INTO THE THE, TEETH & TEETH, winner of the Charlotte Mew Prize selected by Natalie Diaz, and DEAR RED AIRPLANE. For 22 years, she served as Executive Director of Writers in the Schools (WITS), and she led the national WITS Alliance. She chaired the AWP (Association of Writers & Writing Programs) Board of Trustees and LitNet, the national advocacy group for literary organizations. She is the Director of the Honors College at Houston City College.