In our sticky plaid uniforms and loose pony tails, we skip and jump,
pocketing minutes from the cool soft twilight, rushing all play before our
mother hails us. The front lawn is a wide field on which we collapse,
bruised knees, roll and roll and roll, sprawled in damp greenery.
I run my finger down
the silken green blade
a gentle snap.
Along its vein I unzip
the leaf, so thin it curls
like a lover’s smile.