30 days of poems: day twelve

Perhaps later this evening, or in the wee hours of the morning, I shall elaborate upon the feelings leading me to choose this poems. But most likely I will not. I think they need to percolate a little more in my head and heart and such. It doesn’t strike me as irrelevant that I’m working on some amends (turning them around in my head, a network of gears slowly working on solutions to my moral deficits). In any case, this is a poem I liked when I found it today. 

The Forecast

By Michael Dumanis

I carry myself out into the rainswept blur.
I lift my pleasant voice over the coming flood.
I have nothing to do that I’m going to do.
I keep meaning to purchase a dog. I keep waiting

to email you back. When I see you again will
I know who you are? Once I wove you a mask
of rattan and hair. Once I carved you a mask
of painted wood. I brushed my wooden leg

against your wooden leg. We had learned to imitate
each other’s breath. When I see you again will
you know who I am? Will you place your words back
into my open mouth? Once I held you for years

in the stones of my eyes. You were an ineluctable act of God.
Into the drainage ditch we hurled our toys.