children playing on a swing-set
a little girl with bouncy blond curls
when I grow up,
I want to be a doctor.
I’m gonna cure cancer!
poof. she’s gone. where did she go?
all i can see where she stood
are her little pink sneakers and a tiny scroll.
a dirt smudged boy
plays in the sand
when i grow up, declares he
i’ll be the president.
i’ll make sure there are enough jobs
for people like my dad
and no more fighting about things that make sense.
poof. he’s gone. where did he go?
all i can see where he stood
are his little scuffed tennis shoes and a tiny scroll.
a serious looking set of tow-headed twins
each trying to swing higher than the other
one says to the other
someday, you and i will find a cure for aids
and people like our cousin
wont be born ready to die.
poof. they are gone. where did they go?
all i can see on the empty shifting swings
are two matching sets of mary-janes and a tiny scroll.
now everything is silent
and this playground resembles a graveyard
scattered with scrolls and little empty shoes
instead of tombstones or crosses
i pick up a scroll
and read these words
written in what looks like dried blood:
i was never born.