almost stolen for the price,
was purchased on Black Friday.
It only came in Walmart blue,
and the keyboard didn’t work at first.
It trudges along with too-little RAM
and only runs my word processor and internet,
but that’s really all I’ve used it for.
On it’s (replaced) keyboard I have typed
a million discount characters
in poetry and school reports
and earned an associate’s in writing
that’s worth less than my slow computer
to everyone but me.
Murmuring, trickling as I go,
and fierce at others –
a deluge of unprecedented force
that envelops trees and
tears them down in a surging
torrent of muddy water filled
with broken rocks and blood
and the caracases of animals that ran,
fueled by fear till their lives were spent
and they collapsed, breathless before me,
kneeling, panting, watching, waiting for death,
pleading, dying, breaking apart, becoming the surge,
the wave, the flood –
that will go on bubbling slowly
down toward that peaceful ocean
where all streams rage on the shores of the living.
They tell me I will fly one day,
that I have to be patient
and that my time will come.
I try to tell myself they’re right and
eat my weight in whatever
they give me each day
systematically and in spirals,
one bite at a time, endlessly.
It doesn’t always sit right,
and I get tired of the taste of milkweed, but
they tell me I will fly one day
if only I keep eating.