To Katharine: At Fourteen Months

All morning, you’ve studied the laws   
of spoons, the rules of books, the dynamics   
of the occasional plate, observed the principles   
governing objects in motion and objects   
at rest.  To see if it will fall, and if it does,   
how far, if it will rage like a lost penny   
or ring like a Chinese gong—because   
it doesn’t have to—you lean from your chair   
and hold your cup over the floor.   
It curves in your hand, it weighs in your palm,   
it arches like a wave, it is a dipper   
full of stars, and you’re the wind timing   
the pull of the moon, you’re the water   
measuring the distance from which we fall.

Copyright Credit: Poem copyright ©2007 by Joelle Biele, whose most recent book of poetry is White Summer, Southern Illinois University Press, 2002. Poem reprinted from West Branch, Fall/Winter, 2007, by permission of Joelle Biele.