Yellow, bright as a rain jacket--
and the gray shiny rain.
Time, a game of Pico, Fermi, Bagel
but at such a speed
like that bus that never stopped
and then how you held numbers
in your hands, tiny
fingers multiplying among stars--
And those in-betweens, the dance
like everything we ever said.
Words, as breath itself.
I thought of April snow and the sky
as a shimmering screen
where everything is saved,
first days, first steps, first words--
in the calculus of stretching space.
David Wyman’s first collection of poems, Proletariat Sunrise, was published in 2017 by Kelsay Books. His poems have appeared in The Voices Project, the Aurorean, BlazeVOX, Clockwise Cat, A Certain Slant, The Wallace Stevens Journal, Old Crow Review, Spout and Green Hills Literary Lantern and other publications. His poetry is intent on exploring the ways that commodification influences and determines our choices and identities.