I’m like a thing that is hovering above
some place like a rocket ship place
when the exhaust floods a whole county.
To look up in awe
at the rocket that disappears into the atmosphere
the way kids grow up and become like rockets.
There are two aspects to rockets:
first, their power and hope, and second how they disappear.
It is important to disappear,
especially if you are glass,
though it is possible one times out of a hundred
how great a glass you are, so clear,
almost like you aren’t there.
Mentioning rockets in a work, bad call,
but they are very cool, most people
admire them. I believe they do,
or is it just the last kiss she gave me
at some unknown point
I was hurtling through space so hard
it is hard to remember.
James Grinwis is the author of The City from Nome (The National Poetry Review Press) and Exhibit of Forking Paths (Coffee House/ National Poetry Series). He is the editor of Bateau Press and lives in Northampton, MA. Recent writings can be found online in wonderful journals such as Apt, Cease Cows, Corium, Fogged Clarity, Steel Toe Review, Hobart, and Caliban.