The Time I Hold Back
A girl too large for her age perches,
curious, toes circling dust.
She doesn’t move toward or away from,
only suspended, as by a rope swing.
Her childhood passes in the least
memorable way. No, it is wrapped
in a terrible secret. There is some
disagreement on the terms child-
hood, least, and secret. Beneath her blue
skin, lucent cities hum. In a cul-de-sac
tract, skulled windows uncrypt voice:
Let those bones lie! She lets them lie
and lie. Willows inch near the house.
No, it is the house that is moving.