In Conversation
for the Wondrous Thingamajig Contest
I stood on a temple
and it landed in front of me
in the middle of the night.
An apparition I thought
but I walked around it
to take in its dimensions
another life.
The object was a saucer
metal and round
much like my mother
said she saw— neighbors
called her crazy.
Reporters wrote for years
the government kept
their sightings secret
afraid they would change
the world
but my mother was telling others.
A being stepped out the vehicle
someone a little different
perhaps.
We gazed at each other and waved
a secret language we shared.
I asked myself
if I wrote a poem
about the experience
and kept it in a dresser drawer
would it still be a poem.
I asked myself who I could show.
The temple was in a desert
few have seen, the moment
a soliloquy.
in quietude of night
my mother
dancing with stars
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