Why the surprise. Why joy
or any of the enthusiasms
I can’t suppress.

         The pilfering started this spring,
   a few lengths whittled to a point,
white with sun, light as balsa,

Let’s suspend for the moment
strictly human concerns, remove
ourselves from those contexts

My neighbor who tends the rhododendrons
across the street—mulching, fixing soil acidity,
watering by hose for a long hour each evening—

It’s always already here, moment of deposit
unseen, wave reaching hardest to throw the carcass
where the next set can just reach to wet a flipper—

You get yourself to the point where
you’re sketching on napkins. How to
cluster the balloons, rate of lift. Altimeter,

Cassandra Cleghorn’s poem “Good to Go” appeared in our Winter 2000 issue. Her collection Four Weathercocks was published in April.  You get yourself to the point where
you’re sketching on napkins. How to
cluster the balloons, rate of lift. Alti…