Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Sendak VI

Sendak now sits six feet below street level
the drilling cracks the cement extracts the earth
from the earth, splits sister and brother, so soon to rain
muddies the mix as concrete slips its dirty fingers into
in through the front yard, plagues the child, sits abandoned
at windows edge and wonders; silent troves of treasures to be
unearthed. The sand box left uncovered, and the reign settled in
for the overcast fog that moves, motion filled, aware eyes, cast
upward notice it's motion with notions of its passing release.
Sendak, slaps back the track of drops smacking the window bucks
droplets tucked in the corners, the abrupt stopping of the torrent,
then the shutter and release of more, echoes on roof tops, brooding
bash-less, and scornful, like the wrath of childish eyes, peering out
fogged windows, at an uncovered sand box, and dunes forged and pockets
of miniature lakes form, and hands caress the pane, make hand prints
that return, days later, when the sand box is accessible, but ruined.
Sprint, Sendak, clashing tired scoops of water from the gritty mess,
sprint and feed from the dirt dredged earth split below a fallen knee
corduroy now matted with drying earth, bitten to the covered knee
and the laugh that bends to sniffle, rung out to tears, under sunlit skies.