won’t you come out to play?
Fitting Lego bits together, left in a cryptic lay
by a little girl whose intensity puts us all to shame;
April takes stained awnings in its jaws
and puppy-shakes the house until it rattles in its frame.
You thought maybe an simple life would rise before you:
it won’t: we’re only here
to change the guard. We have no use
for captains who can’t steer,
or gold braid, or teachers’ pets: dear Prudence,
won’t you come out to play?