Noisy Water Review

Daydream for my Grandfather

Andrew Pine

In another world this all worked out
World south of this one
with two moons that howl at wolves,
the sun in a globe,
paperweight on the stacks.

There music has a physics
and a calculus.
Citizens judge time
according to offbeats.

Mozart lived to be 230
and compose a requiem
for guitar and glitter pop.
There he can hear the music
and not the cold pulse
of the heart monitor.

In that world, just below this one,
rivers run backwards,
everything enamored of its creation.
I go back into mother
lay beady eyed,
ready for birth.

Here gravity flits us up,
we bore into the heavens and space junk.
We cannot, try as we may, be down to earth.

This world I loved but it was not earthly.
This world above,
inside our blood cells,
inside the yolk of dirt, I love.

But here we love ourselves more,
a kiss more a communion
with what’s unsaid.

There I have a partner and there
I keep two pink tarantulas who
sphinxriddle and cast jokes at the damned.

There the absence of politicians
and the burning of bills
demands annual ritual.

There my grandfather hasn’t the time for cancer.
There I never once had the chance to break your heart.
There I longed the song of longing and it was good.

There everything is almost the same,
except for the immutable details,
the clock a second off,

your mother’s hair a gradation softer.
There I sit and daydream of easier,
softer worlds,
maybe this one.

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