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The John Robert Doyle, Jr., Prize

Tim Taylor

 

thanks

thanks for the balloons
whoever you are
it was disorienting at first
I had dreamed of white balloons
then felt them brushing my face
and stretching awake found
balloons packed to the ceilings
of the bedroom the bath and stairway
my daughters calling from their rooms
the house full of balloons
yielding and settling behind as I felt the way
towards their voices
we are adjusting
we no longer watch television
the overhead lights are dimmed
but it is just possible
to read paperbacks
I canceled the newspaper
we cannot see the floors
and have no need to vacuum
it is hazardous to use the stove
and we take simple meals of fruit and cereals
bumping our way to the dining table
talking about our days
into the white balloons.
I had forgotten how
beautiful they are,
those voices of my daughters.