I Was, Once More, Superman

(Other than the John Byrne revival, I never found Superman interesting enough to read any comic featuring him on a regular basis. In fact, I suspect the amount of space given to Superman over Batman is, in large part, what made Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Strikes Again such a disappointment. Nonetheless, something fascinates and draws me to Superman. This poem by Jack Butler, published in the March 2006 issue of First Things, gets it just about perfectly.)

I was, once more, Superman
in my dreams
last night, torching a section of steel plate loose
with X-ray vision, swigging like orange juice
a gallon of explosive oil. Such themes,
a half-century past childhood!–So fast I blurred
invisible, so nimble I pirouetted
with atoms, so powerful my passage shredded
the air like thunder when I stopped or stirred.

And yes, I flew. Lifted my arms and flew.
Swooped and zoomed and shrank the world to a map.
Flying's the greatest happiness of sleep.

I woke to find myself still me, and you
still you of course, still angry from our fight,
and all this Earth a vale of kryptonite.