By: JD DeHart

I suppose there is some object in space
or some floating personality which governs us
always and constantly
so that we organize ourselves first by the concept
of mother, father, brother
then we begin to feel stirrings inside
and so grope outward for our grounding
At this journey’s terminus, we define ourselves
by the screaming next generation in the old crib
the constant cleaning and drying of tears
reminding us of our own nascent steps
Finally, we find a cane to lean on
or a large vehicle to travel in, or both
I will never be defined by the iron and sheets
as some are
nor will I be boxed in by the call
of the bread just getting baked
I will, in as many cases as possible, find a new
path, a fresh object, or else become the floating
personality that grounds someone else.