Nurse’s Song
Someone held me in her arms
& sang me a nursery rhyme
that I can’t remember,
facing east over the red rail fence
covered in red climbing roses,
next to the red Rose of Sharon.
Three yellow buttercups behind
me down the hill. Every time
I think of that hill I think
of heart & other organ transplants.
Every time I hear of someone
searching for a donor, I think
they’ll fine what they need
among the mica upon that hill.
10 Pins, 10 Frames
These photographs have had their contexts cropped.
Is it sunny out? Are trees casting bars of absences of light?
My mother throws me the football & for a moment
I lose it in the sun. I do my best to throw it back.
Years later, I choose to put numbers into the boxes
on the scorecard to indicate the number of pins knocked down,
rather than trying to trace the arc of the ball,
the sound of cold stone on maple hardwood,
or my happiness in bowling with the woman I love.
Last Christmas, my father brought out his old movie camera.
I remember the lamp attachment like a rack of moose antlers
and the hot lights trying to burn the truth out of my head.
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