by Jack Myers

I’d like to leave
a lighter imprint
on the world
than I’d formerly
meant.  Just a scent,
not the thud of the thing
steaming on a plate.

Instead of “I told you so!”
let my epitaph be
the glance, the edge,
the mist.  The delicately
attenuated swirl
of an innuendo
instead of a thunderhead.

The rain that fell
when I was ambitious
seemed conspiringly rushed
in my way.  But the same rain
today tastes of here and now
because of where it’s been.

I’d like to be gentle
with small, great things.
They are larger
than what we think
we came here for.
I’d like to be an eye of light
that opens the air
and burns beyond ambition,
like the sun that can’t see us
and is beyond our reach
yet is in us a trillion times over.