Toys
It's a rough skirt my daughter wears, a carpet sample bent around her waist, clothespin earrings. Here you go sir... she seats me on the swing and serves a lunch of pea gravel and brown grass plated on a Frisbee. Her brother and his friend skate the hardwood floor, a white socks game of hockey with yardsticks and a golf ball. Later he'll pull his sister with a jump rope tied to his skateboard; her Big Wheel is missing its big wheel. In a fairytale bedroom, sequined dolls twirl unseen, glossy infantry parade in the dark. As my children sleep, Barbie and the look-alikes sit armless and nude. Chewed olive soldiers never move yet the unheld toys seem to lie in wait, gripped by an ardent spirit that thrives on disrepair. My daughter fills the purse her mother emptied when she left. Poet Lore, Vol.106, Spring/Summer, 2011 |
- Intro
- Home
- Kingdom Come
- Tunnel of Love
- Exit Now
- The Passion
- Texas Education
- Dumb Supper
- Good Year
- Toys
- Saint Michael and the Devil
- Invisible Knights
- The Rain Gauge
- Ponder
- Remainder
- Green Ghost
- December 13th
- Dedication
- Prevailing Wind
- Dreamland 1911
- 10
- On the Median
- These Things Happen
- White Water
- The October People
- Scene from a Moral Panic
- Estrellita
- Another Ending
- What We're Dealing With
- How Did the Foxes Die?
- There was a Man
- Bio. and credits