The Prodigal Daughter

He traced the airplane line
With his finger
The expulsion from the jet
Engine cutting through
The cloudless sky and he would
Lie on his back for hours to do this
In the cool grass

On a trip he was inside a plane

He was going across the ocean
Closing his eyes
He recalled what he would
Do in the cool grass
When the plane was going down
Into the ocean between destinations

When the plane skimmed at
The surface of the briny deep
He was half asleep in the
Calm memory of the cool grass

Daniel

The snow compressing
Underneath her feet was
Her favorite sound
Steps were made
Pausing in between each
Each foot compacting
The white underneath

Winter walking lent itself to a discovery

Her foot could have crushed
A bird after a cat attack
Displayed stark against
The blank snow

This she scooped
In her hand to bury it
And after she did not
So much relish the snow

She was afraid of the
Clown at the birthday of
Chris Jenkins the day he turned 8
The infinate primary colors
Being vomited out of
The red scarf mouth

Later at 15 she had a reocurring dream

Clown teeth falling from
the paint smile
the gums flushing out
primary colors

A few time she was the clown
But she could never make
Anything but dark red
flush from her gums