Bored, Tamir Chooses to Dream

by A. Van Jordan

Well, once a path is chosen, there’s no limit
to where you might arrive. Imagine his playing,
high above layered rooftops and along the edges

of trees; at one point, following the curving line
of the park or the grade of the grass;
at another, the invisible whims of the breeze.

Imagine him sheering off as soon as the range
of the city’s rooftops disappear and deciding
here, here is where I’ll drum, here is where I’ll

play the cop and the robber, and here I’ll
fall asleep like a bird, tucked head under wing,
a world of limbs and leaves to support me.

Once a boy dreams, there’s no limit
to where he might soar off, above
pointing fingers and straining voices

trying to name his species. A boy
like that would seek a laughter
loud enough to reach him

above anything pointed at him,
above anyone approaching him,
above any sound thin enough to pass

through the gossamer of his dreams
and just disappearing into a murmur
below him too faint to offer a reason

to look at what could possibly disturb
the object of his day.

See two more poems from A. Van Jordan debuted on The Fight & The Fiddle: “Fragments of Tamir’s Body,” and “Hex”

The Fight & The Fiddle