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Poetry of Issue 9: Play

Play

                     A little boy

       bangs on a metal lamppost

       with a bat, heralding

       a cooler sunset.

       A red rubber ball rolls

       toward the street corner

       and drops into the storm sewer.

       The manhole cover

       is too heavy to pry

       and lift open.

       and we can’t play stickball.

       Streetlamps come on.

       The game changes

       from rounders to spud

       with a volleyball.

       Who’s “It?”

       Run when the ball’s thrown high.

       Freeze when it’s caught

       and while it’s thrown at you.

       I like that game.

       Next is hide-and-seek.

       “Allee-allee in-free!”

       is a call at darkness.

       More winners appear

       from behind the garage,

       hedges and porches,

       garbage cans and cars.

       Mothers call us home.

       In bright electric houses

       are homework and TV.

       Parents:

                   “Get undressed.”

                   “Go take a bath.”

                   “Put on your pajamas.”

                   “Cut it out in here

                   and go to sleep.”

by William Considine

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