sestina

kids on their way to school picking oranges

cute, but there’s something noir about it, something blue

some of them have plastic bags on their hands

like you use for poop, so I keep my distance…

some of them have enormous backpacks, really

really big ones for their new lifetime supplies

what will their mothers do with their supplies?

how many bowls might they sacrifice? like the orange

bowl that holds the beans right now, or the really

tiny bowl for the tacks painted in a serious black and blue

perhaps the oranges might get spread out with distance

around the house so everyone can always get their hands

on one regardless of which room "wash your hands!"

say the mothers when it comes to eating orange supplies

the kids with their backpacks with their secrets get distant

they get territorial they say “mom you didn’t pick these oranges”  

the mothers might roll their eyes and walk outside into the blue

afternoon, golden, beautiful, it’s California is what it is, really

truly beautiful with birds chirping at a marbled sky, really

feels like a vacation all the time, with rings on their hands

little stones glistening in the syrupy sun some bright rocky blue

walking around the dirt yard they step over piles of earthquake supplies

such as water, crunchies, lemons, greens, pop ups and orange

jars of peaches with such light fair one could travel a great distance

from where the wood has piled up to the fruit trees is a distance

vast as a state of mind with distant sharp metallic noises and really

bright sun showers- ditching the day with a pour of violette orange

back in the dirt yard the neighbors drop by to dig holes with their hands

cute tool sets with ant farms and knives they all come well supplied

a plastic bag with more plastic bags inside and one is light blue

they all know that post orange is blue

almost black, a night with a long, serious distance

til day til each kid will be sunned fed and supplied

with all the proper vitamins like B K FISH S N and really

quickly they zip up their packs and slide into plastic their hands
leaving a trail of zest behind them as the scan the ground for fallen oranges