Do you swallow big blue whale eyes straight out of the jar?
Do you ever leave the refrigerator door open
and just shovel them in your maw
in the middle of the night?

Do you swirl them up with mountain-milk?
Make little baby-grey sorbets
that you freeze by free-diving
to the place where the ocean loses light?

Was your mother the sort to stop up storms when she stood tall?
And now do nearby lightning strikes ever feel at all like therapy?
Or are you still a little too small to handle that much energy?

Is it in your nature to treat the tallest trees like broccoli?
When you entertain do you spend hours trying out new recipes
for old growth salads?
Or are you more of a just let the birds fly right into your mouth type?

Do you carry plumbing pipes around with you to stick in small town water towers?
Drink counties dry to whet your whistle?
Or do your boots have aquifers?

Do your shoulder blades catch all the Drink n Wash that you will need for later?
Or does it all roll off your back?
Does it splash?

Does our world cake between your toes?
Do you ever get helicopters stuck up in your nose?

And when you get up from a nap
Does it remind you at all of founding a monument?
Or is it more like tilling the map?
Or something I didn’t dare to guess at?
Something closer to home?

Do you ever see
any of the things that we
have cut into the ground for you
Or do you have
Bigger things to worry about?

[Editor’s Note: Publication of this poem was made possible by a gift from Ed Morland during our annual Kickstarter.]