Poem 298

On the cusp pre-adolescent acting out, impelled to reject what we need in order to chase new needs so as to (eventually) re-find what we left …

( I like the hot wildness coupled with dark undernotes (sounds like something you’d read on a wine label) the image of eating childhood, burnt over-stimulated kids stuffed with sun, and the family as swimmers reaching for the air of morning … )

Stirrings

While something hangs in the air
       that whole summer
we children sacrifice each other
and run wild in the long field
by the creek
                        dubbing ourselves indians
with burnt cork and the desire
    to be sexual

the creek is dangerous with eels
      and dark green kōura
here we crouch to eat our childhood
until at dusk stuffed with sun
as red as clouds
we lay down our weapons
       to go in

sleep is a trap
in sleep we are a family
swimmers
reaching for the air of morning
     for the slim summer chance
to run wild out of the house
away from what we need