Happy Birthday to Malinda Markham,

sorceress with words, creator of magical glass worlds:


THE OUTING

The girl throws fruit at the squirrels. They dodge
and do not approach. The picnic was fine,
there was tea and sweet milk. Watermelon and salt,
that's how the men like it. Children put olives
on their fingers and dropped them on the ground.
This is the path. They must be waiting for us
over that hill. Night reels itself in.
First color drains from the trees, then stars
are drawn across the grass and away.
It is summer, and children can play outside
until dawn. They cannot.
Night birds awaken and stitch the leaves shut
with their cries. Trees breathe at the periphery.
Sing night songs, and the dolls go to sleep.
The ceramic teapot fell off a rock and burst
into stars. See, there is light now. We tell all the stories
we know. Gather the pieces,
you must gather the pieces. All will be well.
We are pirates and tie the dolls up. Muted leaves
billow like sails. Bees halo around the young boy's head.
I did love you so, the girls says, and turns
into a small crop of fern. This time,
the pineapple is sweet. The children divide it,
breaking off chunks with their hands. Asleep,
the fox curls into its ribs. This is not grief.
There is no evidence that animals can feel.
The pineapple is sweet, why will you not eat it?
The day is not so far yet away.