I wrote this poem at least five years ago, but it feels like a spring evening poem, so I put it up here.

girl boy girl

Your pants are too long! Let me roll them up for you.
I don’t know, it was quiet over there, maybe they’re making out.
It’s my turn now.
Christina you take forever.

A girl boy girl fight on the living room floor, six in the evening.
Girls are a few years away from everything,
the boy is ruled by  Saturn.  Is taciturn.

I watch, older and uncertain.   “Authority,” but not able to stop the fight.
The children are like cities on a foreign shore, I cannot comprehend their forms.
Hard to tell their voices apart, just a chorus of tin penny whistles
which remind me
of the piling of layers,
forest floor with light patches, dark patches
over our words, beloved patterns.

Boy, usually silent, says,
I’ve seen this before.

No you haven’t, you’re lying.  The girls speak of one voice, nothing beneath, nothing not said.

Yes, we all are, I say
and they look up, stunned,
they’d forgotten I was there.

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About emvlovely

Oh, I live in an RV. I write poems, essays and prose. Thanks for reading my blog, good health to you!
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