Daylight stood with one leg in the dark.
A boy swung himself through his unzippered jacket
to work his feet up. Then monkey-handed he headed
for a part of the branch he was heavier than
and bobbed there like a hunk of suet.
But with girls it was different: you came to a place
where the weight of your fear equaled
the pull of going up, and that was where you stayed.
Your crotch was the anchor you sunk
hard on a limb, and it was enough
to stay hidden in a bonnet of dead leaves
until your mother called your name:
once, twice, her vowelings broke into two notes
that came to you as from whole continents away...
have a good week.
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