Zoetrope

I see you an inch at a time, Filling the spaces left in the fence. Glints of gaudy, plastic jewels, Sun-soaked curls left behind in your wake, A wet, robin red on your knee when you fall. I’ve not seen your face, But I see it in sounds coming over the fence, Humming while filling your teapot with dirt, Calling to friends that you know you don’t have, Or chirping “I’m six!” when a bird asks your age. Sometimes I see your house filling with shouts, And little you crying in never-cut grass, “I think he’s asleep” whispered under your breath, And since you’d like someone to say it to you, “There, there.” No, I’ve not see your face, Yet I see you completely In the wisps and the calls given off by a life And what my heart already knows of Loneliness.