A Poem for Today: Sequence

Walking on the trail curving

the angled edge of the park,

a safe six foot circumference spirals out

from the epicenter of the universe, us.

The puffed bloom of a dandelion displays

the same passage and path as the print on the

small finger that plucked it,

that print that will never alter, until it decays,

the same map and curve as the vein on the

small leaf that sways overhead,

unfurled for the breath we fear to take,

the same whorl and spin as the home

carried on the snail’s back,

eating the new growth in the garden,

the same arc and pitch as the alien

nautilus, sealed chambers

keeping it from sinking deep,

the same helix and twist as the finest vessel

visible in my ankle or neck,

the back of my hand coursing

with what courses in you, and them,

the same coil and chain as neurons flashing

with promise

as much as with peril,

the same sequence and figure as stardust,

where we draw pictures of history,

then forget it happened,

the same rhythm and cycle as ancient melody

(and the cochlear tunnels which receive it)

chilling my skin and breaking my heart

and breaking your heart, and theirs,

the same

primordial spiral sent

reckless and wild

swirling into the deathless dark

only for the sake of love.