Tomorrow and Tomorrow Again

--Craig Morgan Teicher

Of course I don’t know what

happens to us: if we survive in the

hands of love; if Cal, if Simone

and all the trembling answers

those questions entail; whether

by time or by disease or by

an atom bomb right in the eye. Is it

possible death could be thrilling

and fun? And after could there be

something somewhere and what

will we do if we see each other

there? Will the same songs stay stuck

in our heads? Will medicine

succeed in making life so long

we will beg for medicine to end it?

One cannot lock eyes with a bird,

its eyes vacant as ball bearings, but

mustn’t there be some recognition

in everything? Some fury, some

questioning? If one phrase could echo

throughout eternity, would the ear

on the other side return

a word? But what am I asking?

Will I ever see a whale, and will his size

compared to mine be a true

form of knowledge? Loneliness

has depths writing fails to fathom.

I could be clearer, say more, but

it wouldn’t mean as much. Mother

will I ever find you again? Is fear

of spiders fair? Is a power

above minding the scales, be it

science or gods or the weather,

and can they be tipped toward

balance from here? Is beauty more

than another form of pleasure?

What, which, when, how is better?