Eclipse, May 1984

I am in the school playground. My third grade class

has gathered around the rocket slide and rocking horses.

We are not in a familiar place. I wait for the horses to talk.

My classmates look through science project telescopes.

We were told if we looked directly at the sun we would go blind.

There is a thrill in that knowledge. What can be so beautiful

it can take our sight? Beside me, a boy I do not remember

stares into the sky, stares without the shield of his telescope,

stares with his lips pursed in an O, and I wonder

when his eyes will catch fire.

***

Fortune

I don’t know

how we arrived

here,

but I know

there are finches

flying through

windows

without glass,

singing the blue

out of the sky,

and that is all right

with me,

one way or another.

My palms are up.

I want you to read.