Don’t’ tell me
Life has hardly changed!
Of course the flame burns more greedily,
Wheels are steadier, and yes,
We are the same.
But we are different—
If we choose.
We can put the loaf on the table.
We can be the ones to feed the cash registers.
I choose what I remember.
I choose what I forget.
I can be a stargazer.
I can investigate the scene of the crime
Where the king’s head is tucked in a basket.
I choose.
The recipe to
My soup is what
I choose, and I will heat it
Over flame, and I will
Feed it at night to
My child.
It will be both
My hearth and my history.
I will put it to music
I will put it to page.
I find no reassurance in appearances
Only in starry mystery
Don’t tell me
Things have hardly changed
I will change them.