| STEP INTO STEP—mysterious, impulsive movements out. K stares
at the playground, deciding where to go first, then heads off for the
bouncy bridge wielding a stick as a vorpal sword: (“One, two. One,
two. Through and through…”). Now he plays in pebbles, picking up
handfuls and releasing them slowly through his fingers. Other children
run and scream deep in games. I’m calm as oak branches bend under
the weight of grackles. A mockingbird attacks, reaching for black
eyes and purple wings. I’m absorbed by the drama of the air, feeling
into that fierce turf battle. Waylon sleeps in my arms. K puts things
in his mouth. Think any moment the sky could go green in a sudden
spring shower burst. A gang of children runs by stretching their limbs,
free in their bodies for a while and released from a techno-theological
nation of control freaks. Soon they’ll be intellichipped, submissive as
any professional. A tense, remote darkness deforms these bright day
surfaces. Black stone. Black stone. Black stone. Plucked by birth from
something I was and put into something I am not. Here my son sleeps.
We’re using each other to find something. Step into step. Stranded
under a voice informing me that my son is naked. Shorts down to his
ankles, he relieves himself in a clump of grass. Watch as he steps all
the way out of his pants. I let him go. Write this down under green sky.
Avian warfare continues above, the voices of families around me.
|
(Step into Step)
