Sport 10: Autumn 1993
Wall, Paper, Artist
Wall, Paper, Artist
They were overjoyed
to hold you, to have you
in their hands, those
proud dolls
swaying on their
skateboard
pedestals. They were
startled, as the bee's
affectionate jostling
on a windy stem, not yet
back from the dead, dozing
past, following downriver
the heart-burst capes.
Your children possessed you.
They were not yet born.
Neither were you.
The river hungered for
its pale relatives, their
warm-breathed schedules,
their eyes—bells ringing
out of the blueness.
They were to be born
next week, or allow themselves
longer. Now they lie
with, their outlines
traced by it, their love
and wait, as the lights
on the south-
bound train wait,
for no one.