This boy this boy this boy walks
into woods because
a dog goes deep—you barely make out
her dappled light.
This wee boy, the Scots would say, so?
Just rushing where the beloved went.
A father's words fainter, a mother back there who
sees, holds the little handheld, patiently
world! meet this marvel of a boy
darker, dark wavering beyond
sun in trees mostly shade, the dog rolling around
as a dog will
for joy, a blur, what the hell. A boy
between, leaf in layers
a breathing, his alone own
breath away from, ahead, oh the gods as
double whammy, the one called
Further, the one called What a Life to Be Had.
glorious ever after: keep going! ecstatic
in that dim and just so great—
Or a singing. Aren't they always singing?
Their names too: Stop, Turn Back,
Oh Thick of It Give Way, three
Eventually One Dreams the Real Thing
Copper Canyon Press