Wordplay


Your clothes are your toys,
my son says, as I don a striped
vest, pull on polka dot pants,
suspend half moons--half black
half white--from my ears
so that we may rise through
night's blue spine.  Play
is my work, my son
says, lays sacred word upon
word--I forgot to indicate
that we are free--burst
seed pod, small pebble, grass root.

Anne Becker