by Isabel Galupo
As we crunch along a billionaire’s playground
T tells us about his forest bathing class. How he
learned to engage the senses. To stop and breathe,
in and out. A tells us about the box turtle and the
mayapple. How the animal takes the flower in,
shits the seeds out. You tell us about assassination
by uranium, the metal made miniscule. Undetectable.
It slips into skin and within seconds the lights go out.
My brain is as smooth as a penny. I have no facts to
offer. Just a finger pointing – Look, a frog, look,
the leaves, look, the dried ghost of a stream. A spider.
Another frog. Sunlight like fingers through hair.
I am not rich. But here, among the pawpaws, I am
heeding and hallowed and as young as I’ll ever be.
Pegasus 