We played many games in those days.

Our favorite was the invention of signs

which allowed us to make meaning

where previously there was emptiness.

the finger curved in beckoning was the first thing he doubled:

then it meant Let us leave the shade

as well as the usual.

I would extend my arm across my skinny chest and

take gentle hold of my shoulder, which meant:

I want to leave or I don't know.

He would knit his brows

while smiling, which meant:

I am conflicted or Turn back, it's unsafe.

We loved the multiple gesture;

we nodded approvingly, which meant:

We will keep going or Help us, we are lost.

Often, lost in invented connotations,

we mistook each other entirely,

passing motion between us

as tired workers pass empty words for the sound

rather than the thought,

as birds stretch their wings

for pleasure rather than flight.

He held my hand.

Summer

The counselors say the usual

endorsements, be kind, be kind, be kind,

until the words loosen against minds, religion,

a repeating game. And the children love coyotes,

love when they tear the body unwhole, the rabbit.

This land is your land, this land is my land. The hart was killed

by the wolf; the wolf was killed by stones, by farmer’s metal.

And now there is solace, now there are dogs.

Be kind, be kind. This land admires our voice.

The children love to eat the songs

and the songbirds.