Rob Spiegel

I can watch your brain
waves on the graph like tiny
earthquakes on the California

coast, seismic plates shifting
and crunching against each other
as you play bowling on the Wii.

Your brain is so sweet
today, your homework spread across
your hospital bed, your mom lazily

punching the laptop keys, waiting
for this week to finally end. Seizures
are no business for a 12-year-old girl

who wants to bike around the park.
I want to take your brain and comb
the tangles away, hold you high

above the mountains where the
graph runs white and clear, as your
homework blows away into the blue, blue wind.