Charles Freeland

Evolutionary Implications

Imagine if every fork had its tines dependent
On the operations of your intellect,
Had the shape of them and the tinsel strength

And the color subservient to the front of your mind.
What would happen when the winds came
And the shutters made such noise as has

Been referred to recently as a juggernaut or
Palindrome by poets who should have known better?
They bathe in oils brought over on the slowest

Steam vessels still in operation, taking
An average of twenty-eight months to make the crossing.
And in all that time, radioing in for neither

Help nor advice, just disappearing from view.
Except for that of the occasional gannet
Looking for its next meal in an ocean of meals,

Not a single one of them as savory as perhaps
It should be. But who knows? Perhaps the inclinations
Of our winged brethren are not so difficult to chart.

You can start with a piece of paper about
Twenty centimeters in length. And if that doesn’t
Offer ample enough room, you can always forget

The whole project, as no one held a trowel to your face.
Perhaps there are evolutionary implications.
Something to do with the high vault of the night sky

And why we always look to it when we are
Feeling of out-of-sorts. Why we believe
There are patterns there that somebody else created.