Also, try to remember that you might be right.
If you feel nothing whatsoever and believe yourself
indifferent, you are merely missing something.

You’ll arrive at significant soon. Give it time.
You’re a fat, green silkworm way out on an invisible line

in late June. Your whole body is hanging by
a thread, swung wildly in the wind.
You had an intention when you launched

and you’ll know what to do when you land
but none of that matters now. Only by the slightest

chance has someone struggling at her desk
spotted you midair and so remembered her own
thread and bindings: the falling sun above all else.

Jacob Boyd, originally from Holt, Michigan, teaches in the English department at UW-Eau Claire. His chapbook, My National Parks, will be released this spring from Midwest Writing Center. This is his first appearance in Local Lit.