Terminal Velocity

Listening to history recited

by a man with the adroit dexterity of a savant,

and the constancy of a bumble bee.

The thing I remember most is the thing I remember least.

Can you imagine the panic

of letting children into the sanctuary of a toy collector?

How about a decadent slice of cheesecake?

Or letting go of a rope

and falling through the air,

a moment of flight,

just long enough to gasp,

before the water rose up to swallow

bodies,

ankles,

knees,

breasts, and chin?

I woke this morning with reminders for my more awake self.

I am perhaps most productive before I brush my teeth.

The morning betrayed the day.

Nobody deserves the fate of a broken phone,

a punctured tire,

an extinguished animal.

We should be all loved as the child massaged back to life,

as the stunned scarlet tanager resting on a pant leg,

as the evening sky before a storm.

James Turrell’s C.A.V.U. at Mass MoCA

Dean at Home: The Pandemic Blog