Revision 2
I imagine that God is shaking
a Magic 8-Ball and my tongue is shifting
between: Ask again later, and Better not
tell you now.
I’m hooked to a seismograph,
instead of a lie detector.
The needle begins to move
so quickly the building collapses
like a sand castle, next a city block,
then Superman forgets to unwind time.
Lex Luthor’s plan succeeds. The whole state slides
into the ocean. I want to tell him I can’t
remember any of their faces,
and names have smoothed
like river stones too long submerged. Perhaps
the needle is drawing a picture
of what might happen,
or what’s already happened.
I want to tell him the truth. No,
I want to believe that his question
comes from the serrated curiosity
of children, where clouds
are dinosaurs and the days
stream light. I think
I’m only lying to myself.
If I even whisper,
the sky would shatter like glass.
I imagine that God is shaking
a Magic 8-Ball and my tongue is shifting
between: Ask again later, and Better not
tell you now.
I’m hooked to a seismograph,
instead of a lie detector.
The needle begins to move
so quickly the building collapses
like a sand castle, next a city block,
then Superman forgets to unwind time.
Lex Luthor’s plan succeeds. The whole state slides
into the ocean. I want to tell him I can’t
remember any of their faces,
and names have smoothed
like river stones too long submerged. Perhaps
the needle is drawing a picture
of what might happen,
or what’s already happened.
I want to tell him the truth. No,
I want to believe that his question
comes from the serrated curiosity
of children, where clouds
are dinosaurs and the days
stream light. I think
I’m only lying to myself.
If I even whisper,
the sky would shatter like glass.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson