We Did Not Make Ourselves
We did not make ourselves is one thing
I keep singing into my hands
while falling
asleep
for just a second
before I have to get up and turn on all the lights in the house, one
after the other, like opening
an Advent calendar
My brain opening
the chemical miracles in my brain
switching on
I can hear
dogs barking
some trees
last stars
You think you’ll be missed
It won’t last long
I promise
*
I’m not dead but I am
standing very still
in the backyard
staring up at the maple
thirty years ago
a tiny kid waiting on the ground
alone in heaven
in the world
in white sneakers
I’m having a good time humming along to everything I can still
remember back there
How we’re born
Made to look up at everything we didn’t make
We didn’t
make grass, mosquitoes
or breast cancer
We didn’t make yellow jackets
or sunlight
either
*
I didn’t make my brain
but I’m helping
to finish it
Carefully stacking up everything I made next to everything I ruined
in broad daylight in bright
brainlight
This morning I killed a fly
and didn’t lie down
next to the body
as we’re supposed to
We’re supposed to
Soon I’m going to wake up
Dogs
Trees
Stars
There is only this world and this world
What a relief
created
over and over
by Michael Dickman
from The End of the West
Copper Canyon Press, 2009