Reading Odi et Amo After Going to the Bronx Zoo
Nearly an architecture with all its verbs in place, two arks
touching lightly above the water, nearly dark
as you reach for the window, flowers out of focus
in the waves. There were years you couldn’t speak,
your pigeon-toed tongue. A strong wind. Behind you
the past grows louder, nearly the elephants fleeing,
nearly lions. Tomorrow
you will take a walk. Tomorrow you will mail a letter.
There is a dream emerging from the river, the animals
rushing toward their names.