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.