(no subject)
Little Boy
On those days when the mystery hammers in his temples
Hums in his lungs like alarm clocks
He squirms in his mother’s arms
He scratches at the door like a dog
And with a sigh, she lets him out
Watches him tear down the street
Gasps a bit at his flapping shoelaces
She misses the days when he was an eight-month bulge
Tossing and baking inside of her
Surrounded by velvety wet
impenetrable walls
When he runs out the door
Into a little boy kingdom full of frogs
Where bossy little girls
Squeal with delight and disgust
When the frogs find themselves in their hair
And the little boys are giggling in the bushes
Little boy kingdoms become republics of adolescence
By the time they get to be an adult
The bureaucracy is unbearable
And there are no more frogs to find
His mother sees this in her head and shudders
then
he gallops in the the door with a smudged face and muddy shoes
She gathers him in her arms and won’t let him squirm out of her grip
On those days when the mystery hammers in his temples
Hums in his lungs like alarm clocks
He squirms in his mother’s arms
He scratches at the door like a dog
And with a sigh, she lets him out
Watches him tear down the street
Gasps a bit at his flapping shoelaces
She misses the days when he was an eight-month bulge
Tossing and baking inside of her
Surrounded by velvety wet
impenetrable walls
When he runs out the door
Into a little boy kingdom full of frogs
Where bossy little girls
Squeal with delight and disgust
When the frogs find themselves in their hair
And the little boys are giggling in the bushes
Little boy kingdoms become republics of adolescence
By the time they get to be an adult
The bureaucracy is unbearable
And there are no more frogs to find
His mother sees this in her head and shudders
then
he gallops in the the door with a smudged face and muddy shoes
She gathers him in her arms and won’t let him squirm out of her grip