Highway-speed winds
Zoom across softball
Fields where 5-year olds collect
Sand in their hats behind the tee.
Elsewhere a mother's womb
Explodes red, gelatinous, quivering --
Propelling infinitely--
Struck by someone else's war game.
Sweaty Kindergarteners
Return to baths and milk
And cookie-crumbed
Pyjamas.
A breath away, porcelain
Shards of infant flesh,
Gathered in wails as if souls
Could be reglued.
Lullabied
Tales soar over charmed
Pillows and moonbow
Vectors. . .
Lifted out of the shreds,
Refugees from paradise
Wonder if maimed dreams will ever run again.
April 19th, 2013
