Marianne Boruch: Genius Light Running Through Us

The simple kind that comes through a window, Tom Edison
still doing his power naps to reproduce it,
a hobby the Dead are heir to, certain special Dead
who invented the modern world.

What’s so modern about it? asks the giant elm,
over a 100 years old, still moving sap
and regurgitated sunlight in spite of bite-ridden leaves,
plus its bad rep for disease, huge fragile branches
that fall to the street in July.

Thanks a lot, Wind. That’s the tree complaining.

Light = Rescue, World Peace, Forgiveness, the Flattening
of the Covid curve.

Sure, Mr. Edison.  Maybe if disguised as
chocolate for all, happiness at least 8 hours a day,
ubiquitous oxygen even at altitudes where
normally it’s replaced with
this shrug: you’ll get used to it up here, breathe deeper.
Just set your oven lower or higher, can’t
remember which.

That window again, genius light bestows best if you
sit right beside it in a so-so mood as if
you can forget the pandemic.

Maybe I just need a good nap.

The Dead cherish this part: if you lie down,
you stop and go somewhere at the same time!
Sleep!  A nap is clarity gone ambidextrous.

So much never noticed in life until curious moments
of now drop in.

Genius light running through them.

More by this author