Stacey C. Johnson

Holding Patterns

                  We travel on the surface, in the expanse, weaving out imaginary structures and not filling up the
voids of a science, but rather, as we go along, removing boxes that are too full so that in the end
we can imagine infinite volumes.

Édouard Glissant

We baked bread and held the babies.
We remembered bread and babies,
sat in parked cars, shook our heads,
wondering about others behind glass,
shaking heads, and at those walking
in circles in the intersections, waving
arms to shout. We could not decipher
them yet.

We looked often to the creatures nearby,
kept them close in our homes, in our cars,
in our beds we studied their movements
and tried to read their eyes and faces, we
gave food and names, followed them with
cameras, listened as to ciphers and kept
watch, as with oracles. They were judging
us, we knew. But how?

The children looked away and talked less,
and outside play we once took as birthright
became fraught as religion, history, and plans.
Everywhere you looked, there were images
over images, and they held us.

Most of what we did was wait and watch. 
We’ll see, but it was a question. See? Maybe.
We watched the sky and bread, the ovens, and
the pets, watching us, and        the children, there
was something we wanted to tell them. Wait,
we wanted to call to the children,
the right words. It was silent except
for the noise, which was everywhere,
like the next beginning about to erupt
from the holes of our mouths.

Stacey C. Johnson writes and teaches in San Diego County. She is a graduate of the MFA program at San Diego State University and creator of The Unknowing Project. Her work appears in Oyster River Pages, Pacific Review, and Fiction International, as well as various other publications. Her poetry chapbook Flight Songs is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press (February 2024). You can find her at staceycjohnson.com and on Twitter @StaceCJohnson.