After Ocean Vuong / After Roger Reeves / After Frank O’Hara
Peter, are you listening?
The world has been wondering
Where you might have gone,
So long has it been since
You last communed. The river
Hasn’t seen you striding its banks,
Where the leaves crunch underfoot
Like cereal under teeth,
And the clouds have started
Speeding, sensing no one
To watch them bob across the sky
Like feathered balloons. Peter, youLie on the couch chewing your lip
Biting your nails wondering whether
A Second Coming is coming
Or whether anyone will indeed
Stop the rain falling outside like
Sheets but along the window
A drop is carving a rivulet
Down the pane you ask yourself
When did these glasses start fogging
Up and anyway why are you wearing
Glasses your eyesight is finer than
A ballpoint pen but digging their ends
Into that soft spot between your nose and eyes
Is keeping you alive, that and the
Burning on the roof of your mouth
From the Mac and cheese you
Overheated. Peter, you are part

Of an upswelling that stretches
Your little self out across the world
Like a yarn blanket over a chair,
One whose legs wobble but that you sit in
Nonetheless. Peter, where are you going,
Riding freight trains that advance like rolling
Waves while your legs dangle over oceans
Of deep gray dirt. Remember how lovely
Your dreams once were, filled with sandcastles
made from stolen buckets on a beach
Long since nationalized. Peter, don’t be afraid

Remember how you were once even younger
Than now and you thought the world beckoned you
Well guess what it’s even bolder and brighter
And fuller of stars than you imagined even
Though now you are starting to feel that
Your youth is spent perhaps you must
Consider that it is only just beginning and will
Carry on, taking you in tow.