< yet to come >
(for my father)
Ray Heinrich
we can write while the ship loads
now
even now when whole bodies and minds
can be saved
these little words
like pictures of flowers
mean something
something like seed
you were the seed
before your eyes
opened on this world
the first looks and amazement
at the colors
at the movement
and a hand reaches
and later
you know
it was your hand reaching
for the toys suspended
above your bed
and you
waking from an infant’s sleep
thinking only in images
these words
these words
were yet to come
