This is a time for bravery.
Not the human-cannonball kind.
Not the free-diver nor the free-soloist.
Not the malign puppeteer with his rifle-bearing puppets,
nor the wind-up dolls taking fire from all sides.
No, nothing like that—
I mean the kind that remembers
what to do in an earthquake.
That carries its fears in a grocery bag, like milk.
That grabs onto the branches of normalcy
and makes small-talk with an owl.
And that, when earth’s lips turn blue,
performs mouth-to-mouth until
a warble disproves the idea that all is lost.
