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Posts Tagged ‘hide and seek’

Hide and Seek in the Breezeway

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on August 30, 2012| 2 Comments »

I know she is there hiding
inside the sandwich board,
and she knows I know she is there.

And I know she is the one
tickling my foot while I stand.
And she knows I know it is her.

But for an hour and some,
I hunt for her behind columns,
in windows, inside my sleeves.

I call her name and pout
when she doesn’t appear.
And for an hour and some,

she crouches inside
her small sandwich board tent,
and giggles at not being found.

All around us the people rush past
to work, to lunch, to coffee shops,
to all the places we see each other hide.

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Hide and Seek

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on July 14, 2012| 5 Comments »

The lilies were orange. They boy in blue
sat in the middle of them, as if by being
still enough he might disappear and become

orange lily. The sky wore its grayest dress
for midday, and all around us people
were moving, quickly, from here to there.

One man chided him for sitting in the flowers.
Most ignored the boy and looked instead
at me as if to say, Aren’t you going to get

the boy out of the lilies? I didn’t. I wandered
around and made embellished pretense
of looking for the boy. We both knew I knew

where he was. Yoo hoo. Yoo hoo, I said
to the scarlet gilia, the lupine pods
twisted and brown, the golden currents.

Yoo hoo. And the boy sat still as the center
of the watch dial. Who could say
how long he might have been a lily

if I had not suddenly turned
into one of them, the rushing ones, reminding
him that it was time to go, now, I mean now,

the lilies, I forgot to smell them as I plucked
the boy out of the garden and pulled him
onto the path.

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No More Chase

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on November 19, 2011| 2 Comments »

So she runs into the closet
and hides behind the long
clothes in the corner—bathrobes,

black dresses, a velvet skirt worn only once.
She squats there, pink sock feet
and chubby legs the only parts

of her that I can see.
I pretend that I am searching
for her, rummaging

in bathroom drawers, “Vivian,”
I call toward the toothbrush,
“Vivian, where are you?” And Vivian

pumps her knees and giggles,
thrilled to be concealed.
Until she’s done. And then

she wants, right now, to be discovered.
This old heart is quite the same—
after years of crouching in the corner,

it’s tired of the game and
it’s ready, please, to come out
of hiding, ready to be found.

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