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MICHAEL SMITH
UPSTREAM
You must go upstream
But be vigilant
For rocks of shallow nostalgia
May ground you
In your search
For beads of racing childhood
Which you scattered
Where time vanished
In your leaping of rapids
And bloody-kneed
You must spill them out
There, on polished table-tops
Shining
Before glassy-eyed shamen
Who will nimbly thread
And with their embracing arms
Pinning your shoulders
Bury the circle. Bone deep
So that your blood crackles
And oozes like tar into the seams
And turbulent
In the sweeping flow of returning current
You will be more buoyant
More tightly caulked
As you navigate
Down river
You will still feel the pulsing.
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