The old lady blouse
small as a child
strung up alone
on the clothesline
big enough to cover
vast sagging
old lady breasts.
She lived in that white house.
Snow and a dog,
Bowser, back by the fence
sniffing out a
rabbit cold
cold rabbit.
The park out there
the shed always smelled
like pee
rainy days we glued popsicle stick
boxes and braided lanyards
whatever the hell they were.
The monster icicle
dropped
a bit into Bill's eye
or near it
and he ran home bleeding.
Lizzie
her gap teeth blunt pegs
her eyes, the kindest
and saddest things
in Marquette Gardens.
Me on a swing dragging
canvas shoes in the fine fine dust
kicking up dull explosions
waiting for something to happen.
1997