Afterlife

When I return as an ant

or quarter inch of head lice,

I’ll have learned

that mountain beyond I wanted

to climb is even bigger now.

I’ll know the width and length

of a horseshoe just in case.

I’ll remember how the Egyptians

made paper, and I tried too,

but kept swallowing the celery

before I could chew it to a pulp.

From the poetry collection Fence Line (BkMk Press 2004)