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Out of doors Day

Out of doors Day


In elementary college, my mom rides the purple bus to “protection class.”
Station one she crosses a brook with knotted rope.
Station two she bandages somebody’s leg. Station three
she affixes her fuel masks and crawls the trail to station 4,
the place she eats goulash with buddies. They stroll dwelling singing
The golden gate is open, opened with a golden key.

Grown, when defenseless in opposition to “mud within the blood,” caught
on the base of the steps with a weighted head, she brings herself
outside. Station one she climbs a step. Station two
she climbs a step. In my front room hangs a portray
that reads, “The rope on the finish of the rope.”
In my mom’s front room is a window
the place I watch her feed the grackles from her hand.



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