The meridian of July
\ngleams like a Sistine Chapel,
\nblue as the eyes of Icelandic girls,
\nthe polished white of cloudy Pietas.
\nThe afternoon humming with silence.
\nJackie splashing in his plastic pool,
\nthe hose lifted in his hand,
\nwater of blue silver,
\nflashes.
\nStreaks of lightning,
\nhis mouth tasting
\nthe flow of forget-me-nots and stars.<\/p>\n
A boy with his boats and buckets,
\nred chair in the center,
\na part of the tide,
\nthe motion of time.
\nHis Mema and Papa watching,
\nhis fingers darting
\nlike little fish in the water.
\nJackie sees only the flow
\nof invisible waves,
\nplastic rings of orange and yellow,
\nbobbing like lilies.
\nA bird flailing his arms
\nas if to fly,
\nas if the world could lift him
\ninto the transparent air,
\nweightless and dripping.<\/p>\n
Mema reminds him,
\nin a moment he must go in,
\nleave behind his boats and buckets.
\nAnd shyly he smiles,
\nknows each smile nets him a reprieve.
\n\u201cOne last more, Mema,
\none last more,\u201d he says.
\nAnd she nods,
\nas long as he likes,
\nas long as the earth can live.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The meridian of July gleams like a Sistine Chapel, blue as the eyes of Icelandic girls, the polished white of cloudy Pietas. The afternoon humming…<\/p>\n