Runaways on Gilded Lines of Sky

I rustle, nudge, and gather the billowy legs of my red silk pants around my knees and tuck them

into sagging rolls of cherry bliss

My skinned knees match, blushing, but never bashful

I hike up my dress, lace made by a grandma long gone

But aren't they all gone?

In this land of children

And the strange meddling of secrets and rushing water

With strange ghostly sailboats like pirate ships sailing across the bay

And a ferry full of gapers following suit, eyes wide, mouths wider

Gulping and sucking in the air as if they'll forget it soon

As if they're already forgetting

And they mustn't

I am crossing the prairie, a great triumph

The others are behind me in a serpentine line, kicking a soccer ball

and pulling and teasing at their strangely layered clothes

I have a tie around my head, and the sunset wind tugs at the knot

I so carefully tied

No father around to tell me how to do it proper

So we do it all wrong

Beasts of burden caterwauling and catapulting, cartwheeling, and carjacking our way to heaven

With rusty spoons for percussive motives, and tin cans for phones

I call upon thee

To be my escort across the field

So kiss my hand, gloved and pure

Leave a lipstick stain on its lemony edges

So that I may tie it to a stick and use it as a flag

To let them know they’re on my island now

We man the cannons, the posts, we march the square

Beware