***

Park

My son toddles to four swings,
Pushes them until he brings
Them into a severe alignment that pleases him.

How long his own severity attends him;
How little he notices or cares for other children—

Except their play disrupts his careful pattern
Of empty swing and empty swing,
Of crossing arc and arc of thing
And thing, two pairs doubling

That leaves three other children out,

but leaves him sing.