“Her knees were tumors on sticks,
her elbows chicken bones”
Cynthia Ozick -The Shawl.

Under the bridges,
hollow sockets
give up
their reflective sheens
for the glossy eyed
red headed children
in the meadows.

Haircuts are exchanged
for breaking off bit by bit.
Time brings the springs
of a million foundries
pouring tears into molds
and jumping into children
and showering into the
thinning, the thinning air,

the becoming air
starvation brings. Knees
become tumors on
sticks while high
handed soldiers march
and march, in March
and march until they
mar everything

except the glossy eyes
of playful careless children
in the meadows of America.