Ant

You've been spying on

David Copperfield

You've been crawling the pages of

The Great Blackstone's secret books

For, like Houdini

You appear

Seemingly out of nowhere

In the middle of the tile and grout sealed room

To claim the smallest morsel

Left on the floor

And me

With my superior intellect

Can't find

My car keys

Three Wishes

To be handcuffed to the

Truth

To wear love like a pair of

Glasses

To redeem this coupon called

Hope

Gershwin's Ghost

(Note: The Aeolean Duo-Art Weber reproducing piano was built in 1925. Through an intricate system of pneumatic controls, it eerily produced the expression of an actual performance by famous keyboard artists as recorded on perforated paper rolls.)

The arcs and swirls

Cap each leg

Walnut framed islands of relief

With flourishes covered in gold leaf foil

To draw attention away from

The instrument's secrets

By some hidden network

Of muscle and tendon

The black and white keys begin to move

Finger-like

He is here

Presenting his most famous

Rhapsody

It is his touch

That carves and gilds notes

From the walnut air

It is his pedal

That builds reverberant bridges

Between musical relief

And for a few moments

Even the skeptic finds it impossible

Not to believe

Boundaries

You color outside of the lines

But there's still the edge of the page

You color over the edge

Onto the floor

But there's still the wall

You color out onto the sidewalk

The driveway

The road

But there's still the curb

The grass line

You color into the field

But there's still

The horizon

You color the sky

The clouds

There's still the atmosphere

You fly into space

And color the earth

The planets

The stars

And all that's in between

There's still

You

You color

Yourself

There's still

The crayon

It's already colored, you say?

Yes

But

Not

By you

Early Spring

The melting snow

Has uncovered

Fallen twigs

And branches

Still clawing the air

In what must have been

A last

Desperate attempt to

Hold on

A faded paper flier

That had escaped the clutches of

The screen door

Has been captured by the bush

Standing sentry

At the edge of the walkway

Bits of Styrofoam appear

Bright against the tufts of

Brown grass

And I am reminded

In my own winter

That certain things will never

Be revealed

Until there is

A thaw

Lunch Box

Routine:

The half-pint carton of milk

Always

Goes in first

Next

The fruit cup and yogurt

Nest together

Carrots

Apple

Then sandwich

On top

Ritual:

There is leftover pizza

And I still

Only

Take a sandwich

Valentine

These lines

Have traveled other places

Before landing here

This metaphor

Like the breath at the end

Of a run-on sentence

I'm sure

Wasn't held here first

But this moment

You

Me

These borrowed words

Are

Just

Ours