In The Realm of Park                                            10:45 AM—Boulder, Colorado





The sun comes true Tuesday        

making residents saunter   stroll & park happy

every day calculated in a good morning walk

a good walking mood


No one had heard of the napkins that tore blood from the thumbs

Naked thumbs pushing in eyes

A tricycle will lie turned on its side



A flower-dress woman

appears in the park

carrying a chair & a basket

sets her place under a blue spruce


Two men w/muscles smelling the flower-

dress woman             push-up as many times as they can

            pectoral girdle          pectoralis grass


The wind sneaks into the trees


A mind turns over the need to murder

a balloon goodbye in a child’s string hand



The magpie   domino tumbling from the sky  

pulls off a landing on the rim of the trash bin


A mother her son his trike & gamble oak shade in the park

            a tricycle child in the realm of park


Two women enabled by fabric make waves on the stage of grass

The tricycle child peddles circles

tide of fabric pulling him out


A strange one hums in domino light

jerks off his part of the day

half seeing mother   half seeing child


The wind gives everything camouflage   everything cover



The two men w/muscles arranged           disarranged in the park

ripple & chase a Frisbee away from their blanket


The starving one swoops in

slings back the flap of her fatigue bag

& tossing in a few bagels    says I’m sorry

but I have to


The mother’s migraine originates in the wind

unfulfilled ifs in the book   she’s drowsy


The flower-dress woman picks up & leaves the park

The two men w/ muscles




Upon waking the flight of her arms

The mother on the verge of knowing something

a gasp that split        as after magpie tail


White beads from a breaking necklace hide in the two-story green blades


The wind blows away the hair of the child

Bits of wet sky fall into the lifeless hand

Small body found near plastic lid   straw wrapper   paper sack        


 The wind has left the trees


The magpie pulls at clumps of hair inside the bin

outside the bin         for its nest


Is it its tail that makes the magpie fly so straightly




- Jami Macarty