An Amoeba’s Lunch
Day came on before words
Words came on as wind over a slate roof
a force of a thousand breaths
crawling over old tiles
finding even tiny cracks and seams
Day was unmoved
Best seen oncoming, as if her arrival were gradual
(the words say) and she would hide and preen,
shout and whisper, praise and mock the moment
we are always just outside of as its shadow
How are we not of the day? If we would speak for it,
who would be speaking? A witness
the day envelops and absorbs
as an amoeba’s lunch
A garbled message from a submarine
gone too deep The hull seams creak, settle,
crack; rivets pop
Day is a field of grass
with trees and mountains beyond
Day is this beyond come for us
instead of what it seems
a march we find ourselves in
with a crowd of ourselves
for something we vaguely favor
as the scent of almonds and olives;
a Truth as a moment carrying itself
light as air, as nothing, as freedom
a radiance faster than light
faster than being, than ignorance and knowing
already here before ‘here’ was
Its light would blind us
so it has come as radiance felt, intuited
a chill or tremor from the heart of things,
of the fields and particles in spacetime
Einstein’s cosmic mollusk
The Dog Star 
2 Responses to “An Amoeba’s Lunch”
day came on before words…crawling over old tiles…hull seams creak and settle…the scent of almonds and olives..and Truth carrying itself…the field of particles.
This has breathing room in it and places to sit and stare. I like it.
I remember you saying another reader of your poems said poems need such places. A helpful response. Thanks, Craig!