Zoetrope
I see you an inch at a time,
Filling the spaces left in the fence.
Glints of gaudy, plastic play-jewels,
A shimmer of hair trailing past as you run,
The bright, berry-red of a newly-scraped knee.
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.”
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.
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