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?