All the Way Over Here

Yesterday you told me about planes
that don’t need engines to fly—
gliders, you said, bringing up
a picture on your phone—you said
imagine how far you could go
and I thought imagine how
far you might not

Sometimes we put our faith in things
so easily—the tents we think
will protect us from the storm,
the bear, the falling tree—and it’s
funny that often we don’t
believe in other things

We don’t believe that one of us
might one day find
something better to do,
but we also don’t believe
that both of us won’t

If I put my faith in anything:
I’d put it in cups of coffee,
in mornings where we wake
up slowly, in cheddar cheese
omelets, and photographs
of trees at night

There’s a thing I learned
about willow trees—it’s easy
to reroot them even
after they’ve fallen down

You just need a cutting
and land
and time

Such Curious Fish

Someone told me once that squid
are mostly alone
That when photographed

there is almost always
only one, flitting
past the camera, past

the divers, past whoever
is looking

And giant squids aren’t
as strong as they look
their strength not

in proportion to their size
Their dead though
washing up on shores

created so many myths
of how they could terrorize
How they could break

ships apart with their tentacles
We make such myths

of our monsters
On a video
a squid slips

past the screen
into the dark
beyond our sight

In time, another
will flicker across
the footage and

I wonder if the two
will ever meet

Image credit: Flickr 

What do you put your faith in? Tell us in the comments.