Sunday, September 29, 2013

A yellow book with red drawings.

Page 15: “a collage may show a house, 
partly covered by family members
and their possessions, or family scenes such
as watching T.V. or playing ball together.”

For a moment I wonder if my family 
ever played ball together. 

I imagine my brother and myself 
with a little whiffle ball.

And then my Mother and Father. 
And my cousins.
And my Grandfather and Grandmother. 

And my other Grandfather and Grandmother. 

And their parents. And their brothers and sisters.
And their grandparents. And their cousins.

Some of them might have wandered over from
next door. Soon the whole family is there. Way

in the back I see Charles II. And then Genghis Khan.
Almost out of sight I see Abraham and his son, Isaac
a handsome druggist I don’t know

Barely recognizable, at the very edge of the lawn, 
right next to the Ozies’ house, is Jesus Christ. Why

The whiffle ball is already the best thing that's happened to 
this family since we bought a hammock for the maple tree, 
which we never put up and the maple tree died years ago. 

The dog is buried beneath where the tree was.
This is the sort of yard that seems to work 
no matter what happens, or doesn’t. 

Somebody drops the ball, next to the maple tree.

 Somebody picks it up and puts it in their pocket. 

It’s somebody I barely love.

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