Children of the Universe, us,
We compared the holes where our wisdom teeth
had ached, tongues soft with velvet lollings.
I belong and deserve better, and more,
a birthmark strawberry wiped across
my sweaty playful brow.
We played pretend, imitating the dramas taught
last sunday from big screens blaring
from the corner of a taupe classroom,
hung with inspirational cartoons.

And we were together everywhere,
having the fun of locusts,
entertained with slowly blackening the sun.
Observing ant hills, we were disgusted and fascinated,
wanting to see them stop, and with
hands flapping madly, I shrieked for Father.
But Mum was the one; she gathered up the poisons,
casting a sharp shadow while spritzing the insects
back into dust as my friend clapped, dancing.

We're climbing the tree, the very same,
A venusian Maple comical, its
standing next to the dying Walnut,
while tornado chain link yawns below.
Our arms, taut across inner elbows,
longer than usual, are up-stretched, grasping.
A rogue honeysuckle quells the stink of
Immanuel Baptist and tarp's standing water.

She trusts a profile and upraised brows
My god-daughter; her name is Heaven,
and she believes anything.
Demeanor slipping, my face is cracking,
my throat and tongue are telling,
she sneaks a peek, she wants my hair.
Stick straight, white hair, another odd distraction.

Tranquilized I talk too much,
beginning to babble conspiratorially
to a child of nine.

Heaven Honey, listen to me.
"Trust no one, no I don't.
You have eyes on your back,
use them often and wisely.
Heaven, sweetheart, listen here,
fear is no talisman,
and no better a parent."

El Cafe Nino

with the over-played chocolate rabbit.
Easter Sunday
Coffee B. Doile

The best conversations take years,
and pause.
I am more like a dog,
imagining myself loyal, faulty,
and wary of cats that lack panting emotions,
but cats still have feelings.
Opposite Day, and
why do we and me and you
be say the opposite of true?

Love this

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