all i have now

it’s all plastic feathers and finger paintings

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash

becoming devoted to the cobblestones
i count them on my way to school
i keep a straight path
as straight as they allow
but they betray me, shake me up
lead me off into the woods
and to the doors of

strange
houses

and they don’t lead me in further
so i stand and watch from there
watch the paintings and pictures
handprint portraits stuck with plastic feathers
finger-paintings

i become devoted to
the infant’s smallness
the father’s tallness
the mother’s motherness
this is all until the door closes
and cobblestone paths beckon me back

becoming devoted to the sticks that snap underfoot
snap with satisfaction after the end of their life
and the middle of mine
i know where i want this path to end
with a child
and a father
and a mother
and a stick snapped in half
on the cobblestones