yellow (knowledge of my own heart)

Today I write to you
as a poet
because it is my learning
to be as patient as an egg
with a sun inside
There is a whole ass sun inside every life
gleaming because it is treasure

Today I sit at the edge of your book
like a heaven treasure
I sit to remind you, you also lived
I sit there to remind you, you will die
I am a precious moment
in this way, soft and defenseless and true
with long shaggy hair daring to cover my eyes

There is not a single word
that belongs to me
because I live in all of them
like a sun in a shell made of language
A treasure within a body
made ancient somehow

Tomorrow I might not write at all
I might not be a poet
but I am not dead!
I am just getting water from the well
I am fetching water to fill my pail
I am lowering my jug closer to hell
I am hollering and waiting for someone
    or something to return my call

Like I said, on this day
I might not be a poet with the window open
for a window divides a life in half
You know what, forget about today
Pretend it’s tomorrow or another day
and you have only a memory of me
Maybe as a poet, patient as an egg
Maybe as a precious moment, my bell bottom legs
dangling over the edge of the page
Maybe I am not even there yet in your memory
and whatever is alive precedes me

Am I not still

a yellow sun?

A word buried

like treasure

waiting for someone or something or whatever is alive to go get

water from the well?

If you’re not looking
the sun will change everything in an instant
The colors of the leaves
The shadows they shake
Everything that is being taken away
If you’re not looking
you might miss
what light is put back
the yellow that never left

baby Candystore, 1986