Tuesday, December 1, 2009



(for Samantha)

My niece, who is three, calls for her
Popup book as I imagine kings of old
Called for drink, slaves, or favorite
Dogs. When it arrives the pages
Are opened and she gestures at
Alice. Wonderland becomes
A princess's journey through
Enchanted lands...

Cardboard unfolds from each
Page as we turn, two dimensions
Mimic three. We watch her
Spin new stories.

In memory I see old popups of
Mine, pages now worn,
Figures torn. With age
I ruined all these books,
Clutching at cardboard;
I reached through
Silhouettes as I grew
Older and lost
Youthful patience with
Surfaces. I wanted so much
To make my stories real,
I clutched too tightly,
Collapsed the mystery.

My wish for you is to keep
Telling yourself stories,
Find life and love in what you see,
Trust dreams. People can be flimsy,
Possessions betray. Always be ready
To turn the next page.

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