Old children
I know where the
carnival mounts
And merry-go-round
animals
- Some of them -
have gone,
and the teeter-totter
saddled goats
and snails, too.
And some of the
dwarves
And gnomes
And their cousins
The munchkins:
They’re out to
pasture
No longer to
withstand
The clamors of
screaming
Children grabbing at
their
Wooden or fiber
glass
Horns and manes
I’ve seen them.
Their smoothened bars
For handles
Years behind them
Likewise their rusting springs
For former leapings
Now at rest
But their mad grins
Still transfixed
Crazed eyes
Still bulging
And the colors
Unpresentable
In any suburban play
Grounds or fairs
Chipped, delaminated,
Cleaned in their
retirement
Pastures only when it
rains -
These still
multi-colored
Brightnesses
Capture imaginations even now
Of passing children
Walking through the
tall
Grass or up on a porch
I know about.
Old children sometimes
sit on the calmer adventures
and are happy.
(v.Z.)
