Should Have Poem by michael pacholski

I should write one more poem for April
and one more for the rain while there is still
something called rain
because it might vanish, the philosophers say,
and there are no promises of more.
The month is almost done
another minute gone and spent.
Lately I have been dreaming
of everything I haven’t done yet -
hills not climbed and lovers not kissed
minds not probed and strangers left untended
and cold in their gray metal park beds

the sciences I do not know
people whose eyes I don’t meet and will never see
a hand not shaken is a remaining unease
a whole universe not exploded upon
no impact or tremor or insight

what have I done so far?
what of the sciences I have never known
where have I travelled by car or boat or train?
my report card is being shaken rather sternly
in front of me but I am only blind enough
to know that I am blind and can barely
see that I am flunking
and worse
the paper and ink are dry and cannot be changed
without being destroyed

the buzzing in my ears dies down
and when it does I will never be able
to hear that pitch again
soon the pitch will grow into a note
will become a song a sonata a symphony
crying away from me

there is a hole in my body I stare into
out of which my atoms silently flow
like water back into sky