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Marc Levi

On The Grass

with my chin settled on the ground

in its little wet divot, I saw

how each dewdrop has a rainbow arcing though it

how clover is covered in tiny silver hairs

   we crush when we pick even four leaf ones

how it really is that an ant climbs

      over the very top of a blade of grass

   and down the other side

how a lady bug has to crack open

                    and unpack her wings

                    like wedding dresses out of a suitcase

   how six legs work together

   never touching the ground

how many wings, sizes, shapes perform

undeciphered physics formulas

how there's always something unexpected

how I don't even know the back of my hand

how itches become tickles when you see

clearly

   how difficult the business of negotiating

   a hairy arm can be

how many colors there are I cannot even see

how, soon

                I'll go back to the human world

and kill the ants that come out onto my counter

to feed on peanut butter and droplets of

honey.

 


Marc Levi spends his time "mountain" biking among banana spiders in the mosquito infested woods of North Florida, visiting Death Row, and struggling to develop a common language with his extraordinarily patient wife, Melinda. Some day he'd like to be courageous enough to fold original, uncopied poems into paper airplanes and float them off of mountaintops.

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