Sunday, September 03, 2006

These Are My Hands and Feet

I could not count to ten till I turned eleven.
The chicks were softer than the straw in the set.
One, two, buckle my shoe, nine and a big fat hen.

They scratched the grass beside the shops for men.
They were the best present a boy could get.
I could not count to ten till I turned eleven.

Mother called out from above. That was when
I stepped back to answer her, stepped on my pet.
One, two, buckle my shoe, nine and a big fat hen.

The grass turned black. Its head was not broken.
Father could fix things but he was not home yet.
I could not count to ten till I turned eleven.

The Shopgirl cried out, Poke it back in! The mitten
with one loose strand was moving. It felt wet.
One, two, buckle my shoe, nine and a big fat hen.

My hands did what the woman said. Even then,
I could not save it. But I could not forget.
I could not count to ten till I turned eleven.
One, two, buckle my shoe, nine and a big fat hen.

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