January 1968

A white memorial
To laughter, cheers
And sledding boys
Down snowy hill
To hearths
We’d knead
Our hands
Before how once
We made a hockey rink
Of frozen swamp and
Sapling sticks to shoot
A pine cone tree to tree
With 12-year-old
Equality, clumsy falls
And easy laughs—
Not love nor work
To sort us part–
A frozen bliss
That couldn’t stay
By noon the rink
Was melting in—
We switched frontiers
To fallow fields
Which yielded up
Some arrowheads
And one mad possum
Brought to bay.
The yellow sun
Gave way to orange—
We rushed to supper
Skipping baths, waged
A bedroom pillow fight
Wrestling when it came to that
‘Til finally TV
Stood us down
The Wild, Wild West
In black and white.
Our palm-cupped chins
Fell into sleep
Then up for breakfast
Back to swamp
God had frozen
Just for us
Play without a plan or thought
Next to next
Our only care.
So weird the weirdest
Of the three
Lives to be
The last to speak.

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