A bridge collapses in plain view while
the children are hunted down.
Red arrows put collars onto backdoors
and push palms through cracks.
When small mouths gasp
bitter water seeps in.
The vines grow tall here and
the walls don’t have ears.
Meanwhile the parents claim this never
“Get your facts straight, sweetie,” they say,
palms up, legs outstretched, forming the
perfect triangle again.
Thin fingers re-work the memories
into something more manageable.
When small mouths grow big
the eyes stay small,
seeing the parents as long shadows,
themselves as pillars of salt.
When did the bridge collapse?
You must remember that a bridge
did not exist.
Things that did not exist cannot