Michigan Today NewsE Poetry Feature

Mood Ring
(for my father)
Jaswinder Bolina

Hear Jaswinder Bolina read "Mood Ring" mp3 (requires audio plugin)

Inside me lived a small donkey. I didn't

believe in magic, but the donkey

was a sucker for the stuff. Psychics,

illusionists, arthritics who'd predict

the rainfall. That was the year I had trouble

walking. I over-thought it and couldn't

get the rhythm right. The donkey re-taught me.

“This foot. Yes, then that one. And swing

your arms as if you're going to trial

to be exonerated of a crime

you've most definitely committed.”

Next, trouble sleeping because

I'd need to crank the generator in my chest

so frequently. Seeing I was overworked,

the donkey finally hauled it out—

it looked shiny and new, a silver dollar—

and tossed it into a flock of birds

who had to fly a long way to find safety.

I knew then I was a large and dangerous man,

what with this donkey living inside me,

but felt futile. One day, during

a final lesson on breathing,

the donkey asked what kind of jeans

I was wearing. I said, “The somber ones.”

“Poor kid.” “So will you be staying on

for a third year, donkey?” “No. I think

I should be leaving soon. I think

I should go and await your arrival beside

the crumpled river.” “Yes, I suppose

you have many important matters to attend to,

but maybe one day I will come and join you

for a drink, or perhaps, for a brief nap.”

Bolina

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