The sun grown so heavy,
pleading with the lonely houses
to go down with it.
Grass set ablaze.
A cheap plastic swing set,
rocking slight
to hypnotism of the oak leaves.
From what part of whose childhood?
The insecurities, sung into the ground,
a doll´s blue button eye
in the same corner under the shed.
Remembering
when your hand led you
into the forest mouth,
touching signs from tree
to tree,
your foot so white.
The thread coming through
the spine of which book?
A body, white in the sinking forest.
mabel lee 