When the boy
in the kindergarten class
asks if I live
in a regular house
and I do not know what
he may be talking about
I think
I wonder
what we’ve taught him
about having a book
about having a thing to hold
and read from
that we can say is ours.
We have taught him the
wrong thing, and I am there
to tell him yes
, my house has four children
one of them dead
who chew gum and
blow bubbles
and the greatest noise
is always the silence.
Just as that
you hear reading
to yourself, the words
coming to life
as you do.
white chicken


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This entry was posted by Terry Bain on Monday, May 7th, 2007, at 12:05 pm, and was filed in White Chickens.
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