By Jean Prokott
Charlie wants to know if time moves
slower or faster when you’re older.
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define time by variables: is my yogurt expired?
do I love this job? have I already watched
this episode of Antiques Roadshow?
how many dogs have I counted today,
heads out car windows, tongues licking spring?
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when Sophie asks how do you do taxes /
how do you buy a house? I explain
the Big Taxâ„¢ lobby, then how banks move
into bodies & mine mortgages from spleens.
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Catherine asks: if penultimate is your favorite word
then what is your second favorite?
& I award her eight million extra credit points
for remembering my favorite word, since
I shared it four months ago.
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my mind spins with candidates. there’s flabbergasted,
the b bubble in the middle & the gasp that follows;
or nuance hiding in every pressed shirt and poem.
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maybe antagonist is my second-favorite.
sometimes I call myself an Architect of Chaos,
so those words too, as I’ve failed inspection.
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grass might be a candidate, but I’m not sure
if it’s because I prefer the mouthfeel
or the feetfeel.
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Grace wants to know if I’m a hard grader,
& Connor wants to know the meaning of life,
which depends on the number of unfilled
Gratitude Journals on your shelf. I keep
winning them in teaching contests.
clean inside, noteless musical staffs,
no time signatures.
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I should compose sonatas of mouthfeel.
warm-ups for a grief chorus
should I ever need one. every once in a while
transpose the key, since I love the slanted
aggression of a natural,
how it sits with intent.
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you know what’s so great about penultimate?
its forever anticipation—
plus, it’s two words in one—
and who doesn’t love t
he penfeel of an ultimate pen?
Â
bring us back to Time, the second-to-last
something, dal segno, most savory Eve.
70 degrees,
later. fat peony buds
in green raincoats, one morning
from breaking free.
we are desperate to see
the final pop.
tomorrow,
see feather-petaled showgirls—
           but today,
find sticky ant homes & split
floral pistachio. clusters
of curled butterfly berries.
right now,
words
NOTE TO TEACHERS, AFTER STUDENTS HAVE HAD THEIR CELEBRATORY BREAKFAST
By Jean Prokott
           found poem on the last day of school
Â
Leftover
pancakes and sausage
in lounge.
Â
Bring your
Â
own fork.
No syrup
Â
available.
Jean Prokott's poetry collection The Second Longest Day of the Year won the Howling Bird Press Book Prize (Howling Bird Press). She is a 2024 Academy of American Poets fellow and the Poet Laureate of Rochester, Minnesota, a recipient of the AWP Intro Journals Award, and of the John Calvin Rezmerski Memorial Grand Prize with the League of Minnesota Poets. She has poetry and nonfiction published in Verse Daily, Rattle, and Arts & Letters, among other journals. She can be found online at jeanprokott.com and in person in Rochester, Minnesota, where she teaches high school English.
