Caleb Delos-Santos

What Of

 

Inspired by “what if” by Claudia Rankine

 

When what sits atop me,

when what shifts and climbs above me

-like I am the still soil and they are the ripples of corn

penciled in across the window just before me:

 

less a glass pane and more a page

printed with glittery yellow ink

from the sun midday, its rays:

 

less like the arms of God and more like the fingertips

of children cradling markers and crayons,

tickling the page of crops so they can grow

amber stamps, signatures, and even just scribbles:

 

clumped and outstretched,

as if heaven’s lights are trails

of paint rolls fixed and ignited

upon the tips of every splinter

of a summer’s rustic stage,

 

but also jumpy and electric,

as if every tether of light upon the corn

is a copper cord or a golden streamer,

more than just connecting,

more than just praising

the crops and their warm soil floor 

anchored to the core,

 

like they are the rising corn and I am the still soil,

who cannot keep these crops planted,

 

who cannot lock their roots in place,

or even brush them away from bedrock or any stone,

or even shepherd their gentle leaves,

 

which are open-armed like flowers

or children always hoping

for hugs after coloring,

 

like I am the simple soil who can only hold

the crops by surrounding their sides,

 

and collecting the many streams of light that link us,

and sitting with them and the wonder

of being alive before any soil becomes dust-

When what sits atop me,

when what shifts and climbs above me

 

are my children, dancing atop me

to open my Saturday morning

with a party of need, even just breathing,

 

what of my tremors, my attempts

to solve sentences with questions,

 

to consider and answer anything

not of my crops and of their climbing?