A
Poem in the
Before Choice Disturbs collection
Playground
It was
warm and sunny today.
In the
playground I watched
the
children go up and
down on the swings.
Some faced each other;
were in rhythm. In Time. The march
in their heads.
Children on
swings
like
prepubecsent sex.
Here they learn all
the rules. Like who's the most fun
to make drop to the ground
and say 'Uncle'.