You will be who you have always been.
I will be someone outside my field of view,
On my knees in ryegrass, pulling out the weeds.
A scar left by the pumpkin vine
Will fade and heal. Damp white shoots come up slow.
You’ll hear wind through spruce, you’ll taste roasted seeds,
There will be airplanes groaning overhead.
When you get here spring will have arrived:

Short snakes asleep along the warm concrete walk,
The air pure fiction then. In the sky at night
The stars shimmer, turning to chase their tails.
When I am free of all this useless human talk,
And you are squirming in your bassinet,
I will be someone new you will survive.  

D. Eric Parkison received his MA from the University of Rochester and his MFA from Boston University. His chapbook, No Arcadia, was released in August of 2020. He is the recipient of a 2022 Massachusetts Cultural Council fellowship. He lives in Lynn, MA. Find his work at deparkison.com.