you daunt me with your knowledge
breadth of reading i cannot know
all that you know
i know how to ride a bicycle
for six hours without
tiring
i know how to swim across
a lake filled with
shadows and teeth
i know how to run circles
around the bases
of mountains, and,
how to plummet from
their saw-edged peaks
i know how to raise the
fine hairs from any part
of a person's body
with my breath
i know how to drive a
car sideways, how to drive a
long nail straight, to climb a
tree without branches
i know how to read a book
for its spaces, a government
for the paper its poems
are printed on, a nation
for the colours its currency
bleeds
i know how to raise adults
and lower children
and why both are necessary
i know the tastes of woods
i know the tapping of guitar
string calluses, the sound
my voice in laughter, the angle
my mouth to mouthpieces
i know a three-year tan line
the cinnamon musk of a
sleeping puppy, the rasp of kittens
licking my ear while i giggle
i know a good photo, a moment
i'll never forget and how to love
a chance encounter forever
i know an idea
comprehended, a strike
of lightning, the
numbness that follows
i know the first person
hates poetry or vice versa
and
