Creation

A bit packed

                                        up here,

                                                                         isn’t it? Let’s make the earth.

The beetle’s body shows the world

                                                                in ways words can’t.

The water ripples

                                                                in ways water can’t.

           In the animal’s body

we find ourselves.

                                                                        In the land, well,

that’s to be decided, ah eh?

There’s a terror in the spread of Dayunisi’s limbs,

          in his strange face.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think those contortions

          were a symbol of fear, or confusion.

He’s moving north, and surrounded

            (t)here, at the National Museum of the American Indian. We stop

to stare at our own making.

It gets lighter as you look up,

                                                                the blue moving north, too, from dark to

                                                                  light.