beneath a small robin blue club house
with a deck leading to a robin blue slide
and a wooden beam holding

three swings - that held
both of us, a baby doll
and many innocent summers

Now, the sandbox lid is left off,
its insides sacrificed to rain, the
club house adopted by wasps

the metal of the swings has rusted
the baby doll eternally tied to one
and the robin blue slide now

sun bleached in some spots
and cloaked with moss in others
is the only place

our adult bodies still fit