Discovery
You have hit the nail
on the hammer,
have crammed the universe
into a speech bubble.
You have cured
the common cold,
have slid the manhole’s lid
aside to reveal a hole,
the earth’s mouth fallen
open, impressed.
You made gravity.
You found it. You founded it.
You scribbled a shape on a napkin,
a bison, an animal
cracker with one leg
missing, and called it a country.
You pointed at some shore
you had not seen before,
and dragged your boat to it
that you might walk
through the sand of a new
land, you discovered it.
We knew you had it
in you all along, we say,
a switch in the cavity
of your body
that just had to be
nudged up.