The Last Mimzy
When she was in the second grade
the clouds were ivory castles in the sky
& bugs were for collecting instead of stomping
& fireflies were lighthouses for bees,
her wizened maths and grammar teacher, who forgot
that sticks are swords, sharp as imagination
& the feeling of hitting river rocks with a baseball bat
& couches were battleships on hardwood oceans,
told her that you couldn’t stand on clouds
& that you can’t eat ants even if they taste like lemons
& that ‘being a house cat’ wasn’t a real career choice
Sometimes I feel we’d be a little better off
if we just sent kids outside instead of school.
Who knows? If we did I could be writing this
from my royal room in a castle in the sky
or collecting bruises from blades of elm and oak
drifting in nostalgic currents from lighthouse to
lighthouse as I reach for another handful of ants
Copyright © C.W. Bryan | Year Posted 2023
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