Palm-sized, shining from damp sand—
a rock I noticed and kept walking for
two miles. Even at a glimpse, it looked
like the earth in photos from rockets.
Not just Earth but the cosmos, billions
of bright galaxies swishing through
black and dark blue. Roundish.
So I turned back, figuring no way
it would still be there. Not on Labor Day—
packed beach, forecast sunny. But it was.
There. The whole world. No one thought it
worth picking up. Maybe they missed it.
I have it now, in my hand, the world.
Yet, nothing has changed in your life—
the TV’s on, the car, the bathroom scale
stops on the same numbers regardless
of grueling sacrifices. I am holding in
one hand our whole world. You think
that’s made up. Which is one reason
I went back for it. You’ll see it and ask
how is this possible that you are in
the world while I’m holding the world?
I confess, I have no idea how the world
works. I only just found it.