saturnalia in poetry

things I can’t do

make a Hammond B3 organ sing out
like the angels in the kind of church
that doesn’t need a god in the heavens
to make its music holy

make a bat crack on a fastball
with the same sound the sky makes
when the winter unlocks into spring

make the world a more human place
with the wave of my hand

make history less awful
by popping back and fixing things
with a snap of my fingers
or the rev of some impossible machine

make up for the opportunities
I could’ve jumped at if I wasn’t
afraid or tired or out of money

things I can do
bleed
sweat
write
sleep
dream
love
love
love