Ohio

The summer we drove over the border

into Kentucky, I waited for the grass

to turn suddenly blue,

as if there were places in the world

where you could cross into extraordinary.

It was the month of fireflies,

the month when the sun set late

and our apartment building

rose higher than any home I had known.

In the car after dark, I pretended to speak

a different language, exotic and untranslatable,

babbling jabberwocky words

until my parents hushed me.

Even then I wanted unreachable things.

Happiness tethered to the moon’s cloud mane

as my mind raced toward magic —

ignoring life’s bit and gripping any illusion

that would take me

all the way to impossible.

*

Originally published in Kirlian Effect (FutureCycle Press)

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