Across The Chasm



Some of you are smooth as summer ponds.

Some are bees

or grass blades bending.

Some girder yourselves against the grown-ups you will become.


Laser eyes, glacier eyes, brick eyes.

Eyes with sparkle. One of you hides

behind dark glasses and a hat.


We summon each other from across the chasm:

one with a fistful of treasure

one whose five-fingered cup opens toward the light.

                                                                                Jennifer Wallace