Paper faces hanging in the hallways
pieced together with crumpled construction
paper, and plastic eyes.
They aren’t allowed to go near the squirrels
that hang out below the walnut tree.
Instead they just look at them from far away
and toss them the crust from
their sandwiches.
Cold blood on the metal chains that connect
the swings to the swing set, is put there
by the vessels in their palms.
Doors never walked through contain rooms
full of everything old enough to keep out
of sight, and a light bulb that still somehow
works even though it’s broken.
Broke
Teleporting Typewriter 