My emotions are ruddy-faced with
glinting eyes and rock-torn knees, they make
torches out of construction waste and wander into ancient
and trembling caverns, they dive into quarries, they crash
into maple-leaf piles with tinselled crinklings, and
they disappear feral when others come by, gazing and
whispering out of briars. I would drag them
to the edge of town, not as show but as innoculation, that
they may play without fear, that they may be seen at
play and not freeze like a hare being coursed. I would
give them that dishonest intimacy between the voyeur
and those pretending solitude, that intimacy of sighs, chortles