STEVEN ROOD
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Bird of the Spirit
What if Jacob's Ladder come down right now,
into the bedroom, the car, the rock in the woods,
the desk with computer, the porch.
And you could disappear from the bad fortune of your life,
its chores and money.
You could climb up, hand over hand,
away from the sad houses of your neighborhood,
the stories and gossip that seemed important.
Now memory. Now dim. Now gone.
It would be like the Rapture, only slower,
requiring good legs and a knowledge of the Hebrew Bible.
Like winning the lottery, except no one would be able
to get their vigorish out of you.
And once up there you could have what leisure you always
dreamed of.
Not the kind retired men have in Hawaii,
but the kind Morris Graves had,
in a place not scouted.
Yes, you could wake to a bit of food, then choose
by which path you would enter the woods.
To that stand of cherries, or to the meadow
with its flat rocks and springs, so you would be floating
across the meadow under the vast and cloud-bearing sky.
You would swim naked in the pond
and make love in the open. You would walk
back to your cabin, with her, light the kerosene lamp,
and watch the moths and swallows flutter and skim
under the meteor showers of August.
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Steven Rood practices law in Oakland, California. |
