Maybe

Maybe

My Mother works there

And so does my father

                                                Charles Simic

                                                Toy Factory

And maybe because trees

come to burn neatly

maybe because some weep

the deep released

maybe the gelatinous resin’s

at last gone soft gone aloft

maybe in steam see

it’s different

maybe in the smoke

to your eye, nose

maybe throat yellow

open coals though only

maybe in the close when

the fire’s been going

maybe for years

each piece of heat

maybe squeezed if not discreetly

more than freely

maybe solid as an offering

to your gods

maybe lugged from the bogs

they’d gone hollow as in

maybe don’t you want

them to come alive again

maybe don’t you want to

lug them yourself like

maybe they were a storm

of blowdowns

maybe receiving the ready

generosity of your feet

maybe like children

because it all takes

maybe is a sudden turn

that wasn’t required admit

maybe that at least

because you were

maybe wanting a puzzle all put

together or if not

maybe one that is still under

the jig and hasn’t fallen into pieces

maybe like hard times

come together years later

maybe in a story made from

beech made from trees you seem

to think are maybe

rooted only to be burned

because each receives maybe

the tongue it’s flung to

like trickery maybe

like practiced trickery

as if juniper maybe

as if ash maybe

as if when maybe

it’s liquid again maybe

it will be poured maybe

into your open throat maybe

the only mold entirely suitable maybe

and it will hollow and melt off maybe

the drops of I think maybe

I need to tell you maybe

its common as water maybe

and gives off more than its maybe

gathered and maybe

if you can take that maybe

just maybe it’s God

or if not maybe just gospel.