Waiting for Jack
outside the school
I read the pages of eternity
on its walls.
Fossils in the limestone blocks
that construct it.
The sediment of the sea
that covered this place.
Mussels and fans,
ribs of circular planets,
pieces that connect
and disconnect.
Spring light shining on
their dry remains.
Beautiful little lives.
In the split second they lived,
I see a hundred million springs
come and gone.
Jackie and I now share a few.
A wisp of life
counted on our hands.
Where will the remains of our dreams go?
How will our smiles be traced?
Will our voices make a sound
in a hundred million years?
Will the universe
understand our love?
Will a child understand
the fossil in its hand?
See the contour of a face
outside a school
in a time unbelievably far away?
A man named Papa,
a boy named Jack,
and spring’s light
illuminating our page?