time movement

Channeling my babies
I watch a fat yellow black
buzzing ball fly
repeatedly
beneath the bottom beams
of their home.

--I remember:
kissing his cold dead feet
cleaning his, forgive me, fading drying lips
translating his thick mumble-tongue
    to friends with planes coming just a little
    too late

--I remember, too, things
   that hadn't happened yet:
graying hairs framing wrinkled, silly faces in front of
the pyramids
Handstands
beside the Sphinx

--And also, somehow, I remember things
   that are about to be:
Too many to choose from roads
paths
turns
needs
choices and again more

choices

When, at this point really
the only choice
should be
you.