As If We Know the World–Connie Wieneke

As If We Know The World

Where it used to be wheat fields nothing but blue-black clouds. The roil fearsome strange animals. Something terrible keeping us still. The clouds slam into us, the roar of hot wind squeezes our already narrow shoulders into stone. The next blast upends our hearts, a sucker punch to each windpipe. Sheet lightning burns three pairs of eyes brilliant blind. The afterimage a mirage. A stampede of horses and buffalo crosses the Hi-Line. The Jabberwocky from the Collier’s book of fairy tales rumbles in from the west and giant dwarfs bicker and scream. Gleeful. Childish. Obscenities. Time to come in. Momma calls on God and the priests, goblins and our father’s belt. Nothing is going to move us. We nail our butts to the well cover, anchor newly formed bones, sinew all the way to China and back. Going to kill yourselves. See if anybody cares. We scoff at the softness behind her tough voice. Our dog eyes watch and lean into the horizon. Limitless, out of reach of words. You can’t stay out there forever. What we prayed for who now can say. Warm rain drops, pestering sand turns to ice. Now! We wait as if we know the world depends on us.