last night at 2:30 in the morning
the sun rose in the west
i had dishes to wash
but went outside to marvel
w/ the other two workers
gazing at the new day
the anomaly at close
we had to point it out
to the drunks leaving the bar next door
but they didn't care
one blonde girl didn't see the big deal
since most of the sky was still black anyway
except the yellow sphere around the orb
& the brightening land beneath
it's fucking time, i said
to her, it's how we live
at this time & that time
be here and be there
the other workers & i became
prophets of the sun
preaching to the unshaken
followers of routine
Can you not see what it
means for the sun to rise
at 2:30?

i moved my finger across
the red veins of a map
& ended up in Michigan
& followed a quick footed
shaved head man skirting over sand
through a compound of buildings
leading me to a service
(i thought, if i had to catch him, tackle him
i could. he could not escape me. his tracks
in the sand.)
he opened the door & in the meeting hall
the locals had painted their sheeps' faces,
made them wear dresses,
sit in pews beside them like children
the woman next to me hissed & scolded
her sheep for its shifting, sizeable inattention
Dad preached & told of a speech
Nancy Regan gave that caused an
economic depression in Hawaii
the congregation asked about
my youngest daughter,
"if when she was here, could she speak?"
they spoke of her in the past tense
b/c she was not with us
but was adrift, lost somewhere
when the glow from the west melted time & direction.
yes. she could speak.