By Rick Benjamin
for instance, if plates,
tectonic I mean, should
shift under all that weight
between them, cause earth
to fall into itself &
take everything with it, if roof
above my head should
fall, leaving only stars
&, tonight a moon we call
thumbnail, if ground
opens to swallow whole
what until now we’ve found
stable, will I know
to stand up from the table
where I’ve just served dinner
& offer a toast to life,
find the right rhyme in
that moment of dissolution,
say, l’chaim to each guest
I’ve ever invited in, all
of us toasting with unbroken
glasses, by which I mean,
hearts, as we fall, face-first
into the next place?
Rick Benjamin’s has published four books of poetry, most recently Some Bodies in the Grief Bed (forthcoming from Homebound Publications). His current project is a book about work that poetry helps us to do in our lives. He teaches at UCSB, Goleta Boys & Girls Club, Community Arts Workshop, a juvenile detention facility and elsewhere. Also from this poet: "Old Pillow"