Even With All These Legs, Running is Not an Option

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Even With All These Legs, Running is Not an Option 


What I know is there is still a way 

of being here, a free-swinging fidelity


like the leggy basement spiders

bouncing cooly in strings strung 


between duct and drywall every time 

the air kicks on. What I know 


is there is yet a way to suspend oneself  

securely in the unseen, even when


today or tomorrow the world

will pick us up to feel our little bodies


go pop, a way to go about the waiting

like one lingering by the ballot box


whose vote has long been

cast: when it’s time, you’ll find me


where you found me last. What I know 

is the solution is never as neat


as cutting the cord or weaving one more

stitch to plug the gap and catch the missing


drop of dew. This is what I know.

What I need is what stray bits


of knowing you've happened to snag

in your corner over there, and you, and you,


and you.

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