Misplaced Child
At the pond just beyond
the radius of the park,

fog rests on the water surface,
too heavy for evaporation,

and a boy, small boy seated,
legs crossed beneath him,

no adults anywhere near,
no one resembling a parent—

watches a locust sail
the silk face of a lily pad,

he is entirely new, no past—
in a past life,

a small tree, wind, or candle flame—
now here, eyes like earthglobes

staring at me, my minute
a year to him,

the tear from my eye
a drowned lake.
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