poems are raining down from the ceiling. poems are crawling in from the windows. the garden is blooming poems. it is also a poem. this house is mostly poems. the yellow dog in the yellow house is barking poems. the girl who lives down the street is a poem and she speaks to the neighbor in poems. me, watching them from my window, is a poem and all the words i want to tell them are made of poems. her brother rides a bicycle poem and the laughter he leaves behind is a poem. the man who walks by smiles a poem. more children come, dressed in poems and they begin to play, which is my favorite poem. the sun sets, like a poem and the darkness that comes is a poem. nobody goes home, and this too is a poem. the crickets begin to sing, which is a kind of poem. today is all poems. the lamppost is shining poems, the light is a poem, the cold coffee is a poem, this window is a poem, and the night that holds all of this is a poem. oh, i never want to leave.
written after ‘orchids are sprouting from the floorboards’ by Kaveh Akbar.