I would not part
a waterfall of moths,
or agree to play a role
and learn no lines.
If I saw a wolf
scrabble across the ceiling,
I would die of fear.
I could not be sucked
chest first
into the clouds,
or encounter my older self,
or pray with such fervor
that my hands melted.
Were I awake
I would not swallow
more and more jewelry.
But nor would I see Pat
laughing like he used to,
cancer free.
Ryan Calo is a law professor and amateur poet in Seattle, Washington. Ryan’s poetry has been published in The Stonefence Review and his nonfiction in The New York Times, The Atlantic, and many other publications.
