Conference Room on March 1st
by James Damico
chameleon morning in this
chameleon month
the bite of northern wind
at times
gives way to a breeze
pulled by petals
of future flowers
in this room, academic
talk swirls
as another academic
in all her – in all this –
Whiteness
shares her data
introduces you as “Li Xiu”
and reads one of your poems.
she tells us that it was
refused in your remedial
biology class – your
language still too broken
your speaker reads
your words, yet pushes
past them — to tell us
what they mean –
she speaks, but I do
not follow her words.
I stay with you to
dive with Darwin into oceans deep
move with ants up redwoods
back stroke in the petri dish
You and this saccharine breeze
remind me that I, too, am
10,000 years old
teach me about biology, data –
coming to know
before the northern wind returns.