Walked round the paddock as the grass goes out of you
or gathering, red-holstered to carts in markets,
hangings on the Leprechaun’s Oort Cloud clothesline;
clover, rainbows, horse shoes, and moons cling
high-static, quick-quick sugarfabric.
So far, no hug withheld from an unknown dungaree leg—
leash tugs on the wayward and hellos abort
sour on the tongue like fired gun caps
YOU GO TO SCHOOL GO TO SCHOOL GO TO SCHOOL GO TO SCHOOL
where the class cracks with talk but the dreams-in-world
of chipped tile and wood foam slathered on the still
cranks and sharpener blades of the wall-mounted
industrial reverse pubis. Pen lines squirm
into stable surfaces—morbid battle
joins what children are and are here for. First thoughts
to be anywhere but where you are, hiding
feet-up in the midden—to be one with dark lids
inked as the night the crescent moon first flickered
but new clusters have bred among onetime
Lucky Charms.
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