When the Park is Off Limits
A crack in the concrete patio runs
from one corner to the other.
Ant mound molded from dirt and sand envelops
a section of the wound. A child
whose limbs are growing into an awkward age
drags a hose from the yard. Shadow cast from her body
bouys ants upward from their brief rest in the sun,
to drag dead bugs and bits of potato chips home
faster.
Slow deliberate dance of the hose
fills the mound to bursting with a rush of water. Mangled
ants and sand wash across the patio onto the feet of adults
that meet the floor from the height of plastic chairs,
clinging around a card table.
This poem is about:
Me
My family
Our world