Woman Talking Over a Child’s Head

Put me in a hospital

the child’s deliberate crayon stroking, hard pressed
opaque blue, shining.

Bright hot chrome of rickrack waves serially repeating

scrape of metal on cement, a table moved to the shade.

Squinting, you think you see a pattern. The sun,
that godlet

finally lays down its metal shield. I don’t know
what to say about the child.