Sunday, January 28
AWE
Celebratory,
gently onomatopoetic,
almost indecorous, the words a pleasure
to repeat—everyone said it,
“the whole shebang”—
but if what Skeat said was true, if shebang first meant
“temporary shelter,” if all of
it is only temporary…
I didn’t like to think about it.
Beneath the blue whale,
at the Museum of Natural History,
I understood I was a small lone figure swept up in waves.
The whale wore 600 pounds of paint.
I wore waterproof mascara and Geox,
the metal eyelets flickering on the floor
beneath her ten tons.
I wore those shoes everywhere
but did not wear through their breathable
membrane, which someone thought to patent.
Isn’t it wonderful that the soles
breathe, like all animals?
Like the speechless human animal
bending now to double-knot the laces
as the black sneakers collect dust,
the dust of exhalation.
Exultation.
It seemed everything was breathing,
even the blue skylights with their blue bulbs,
the passers-by in the vast family hall.
Beneath her body we walked beside other bodies,
we walked away, we planned to return,
safe in our temporary chambers.
(Catherine Barnett)