Jeanne Cassler Catch us when we chase you, boys, your arms around us will tell you a secret that has no words. She's lost inside her laugh before the rising tide that reaches out to tickle her bare toes. The oak in my backyard holds twisted rope and wood and knows the name of every child that swings. I kick my fear away, my arms pull down, my head pops up, I breathe.
Nothing looks like a cat perched on the window sill so condescendingly thinking Something.
Nothing extracts secrets like a kindred spirit. Listen, I'm longing to tell you Something. Nothing ever works right after I've paid for it. I'm always having to repair Something. Nothing ever works right after I've brought it home.