Water and the Word

In the beginning,

Miss Marshall. second grade.

The poetry book falls open to Old Ellen Sullivan.

You should hear
the slapping and the rubbing
and the muttering
and the steaming and the splashing.
The dark clothes dripping
and the white clouds fluttering.

Syllables bubble, bubble, bubble,
torrents of words,
ripple over my feet,
my desk,
my pencil.

Miss Marshall waves goodbye
as she turns the page.
She knows what to expect.

I swim now
under stars, hung
by eight drunken sailors.

Filter that starlight someone please!
The heart can't take such beauty straight.

Evening always shimmers so
before it attacks on soft feet.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

How I wander as I wonder.
I float simply, simply float
in a sea of happy lies.

Who can build the biggest castle?
Stack word upon word, upon word,
tiny towers of Babel.

Words fall
blossoms all
sweet and fresh and fluffy.

I am the one you see swimming
in and out of pockets of light.