Daily Poem: April 6

Childhood

Childhood
After Andrei Tarkovsky



A child imagines motion
in a blue hallway
scratching his nose, peering
through the slats of a chair,
more darkness in every doorway.

A preoccupation with mirrors, balloons,
pattern and repetition
passing
in senseless cacophony,
a real racket.

Music is the reflection of light on water,
and I am its resonator.

That’s something he learns.

That and the world’s full
of puddles and running water.
The rest is in question:

If there’s no lever, why are we going forward?