A Saturday Morning, In Watercolor

I laid back down
my little boy playing outside on the trampoline
the summer coming
the leaves on the trees a light green

The pillow smelled good to me
cool fresh fun to hold bigger than my arms around
I felt small
I fell into a deep sleep
and dreamed
of straight lines

before we went out to play
I sat at my desk and wrote a poem
a simple one
just to catch who I am
and remember the better part of me

little boy thinks we should sell the house
probably may or june is a good time he says
if just for a while
I laugh

they tore this house down
they tore the road signs down
everything
and in its place
mother nature comes home
turning edifice
breaking walls
letting flowers grow up through the foundation
bees hanging heavily in the air

you're from the south
so I can't hide much
you've seen the milkweed in the afternoon sun
the kudzu and dandelion and the carpenter bee
the afternoon wears on
I roar my terrible roar
and gnash my terrible claws
and roll my terrible eyes
but I have no disguise
sweat
rolls from my brow
I am standing in a field alone
food for worms
I smile
and think of you

and while I was
quietly vines grew
like kudzu

thinking about each word
building an image you can see
torn from a magazine
and kept near the paper
where we draw
kissing him on the head
I become aware of a strange smell
so
I rush him off to take a shower
his hair smelling strange
little boys sometimes roll in dead things
and while he's in the shower
I steal away the moment

and press send
and it sails
in and out of a year
and over a month
and through a week

to where the wild things are