By Julia Klimek
Sitting in a children’s circle, one began: “I am going on a trip, and I am packing into My suitcase … an apple.” And the second child Repeated, added. After the first round, it’s hard. Memories pile up: games, trips, Items packed. Today I will take, Bundled and wrapped, these things, or those (All memorable): Apples and swimming trunks and toothbrushes and Trickier things, like elephants, the kind Children wish to pack or at least remember until The next round. And laugh about having forgotten: How could you forget the elephant? The measure of the elephant appears As a fixed point That helpfully defines: This rock weighs as much as; this bulldozer Can move the equivalent of — I think you remember. Elephants are worth packing and remembering. Imagine a herd of zebras, to keep them Company, but always running off over The late afternoon hills toward dusk. Vultures take care of the straggler Quickly forgotten. Sunsets are worth Packing, but how to remember Them? This orange swirl Or that metallic-laced cloud, there: God’s finger pointing down – Forget especially the effort of remembering, The way memories pile up, and weariness, Response to trafficking with the past or getting Caught before the future, and The weight of the elephant, carried Through the rounds.
Copyright Julia Klimek 2010