9.27.2007

We're Only Children Ourselves

The ribbed sound of the rain on hollow bamboo,
Fascinates both of these children,
A boy and a girl,
Concealed in the elephant leaves,
Watch the shivering curtain before them unravel,
And collect in the muddy clay banks,
One of his overalls is torn,
So she gave up one of her ties to fix it,
One blonde pigtail still protruding like a limp antenna,
He says it was his birthday yesterday,
Although he's not very sure,
But it would make him nine,
Valiant and fair-skinned,
He thinks to himself,
But stays like a heart-stopped rabbit in the leaves,
Her eyes trace his back,
The lumps of his spine showing through red and white stripes,
She imagines a tiger,
Waiting,
Thankfully the rain hides the boy's tears,
And the birds his sobs.

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