Christmas Cactus Budding in October

This weekend there might be snow.
There’s a man with pigtails who patrols our street
and he does it still, in his hot-wheels-looking-4x4.

And of course, the bus stop man, who daily makes 
a pilgrimage from the park to the pharmacy and back —
a three-mile journey along the along. 

Or the ochre moon who, in winter, 
is the skies best kept secret. Tucked in among 
the duvet of low clouds. Perhaps 
it gets closer on nights like this,
threatening to visit or kiss.

Christmas Eve, 2000 —
I placed Batman in the manger, 
brooding toward Bethlehem. 
Surely, everyone waits for some hero.

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This poem is a bit about hidden identity, a bit about saviors and a bit about seasons. It’s mostly about myth and the way we all create small myths all the time. In this case, I’m highlighting memorable characters in my neighborhood and holding it alongside the moon (an age-old myth), batman and religion (classic) and perhaps weather forecasting, which, seems as true as a myth most of the time. 

For some reason, these images moved in lockstep together in my head. Each of them captures a moment of “before” or “becoming.” 

The last stanza plays a bit with the ending of this Yeats poem which I’ve referenced before.

I’m currently reading Power & Progress, a thoughtful book with an alternative look at the many progresses of civilization. Prescient in this moment of rapid technological advancement. It certainly complicates the idea of heroes. 

Thanks for reading.