Carved Bones

lilac trees2

‘I say the trees
look like carved bones.’

The boy’s head turned, tilted
sideways.
His sister kept the rope
in motion.

The smell of oil
mingled with lilac.
Oil on skin

‘The leaves are gone,
there’s nothing left.’

The girl skipped on
and sang
‘Miss Mary Mack Mack
all dressed in black black’

The taste of salt
and a hint of lime.
Salt on skin.

‘I say the trees
look like dead soldiers.’

The boy leaned over, bent
sideways.
Hand on the concrete
one leg in the air.

Hands unsteady, but
work keeps the mind
away from itself.

The girl stopped, looked
through fingers
pirouetted
and stepped aside.

‘I say the trees
look like fallen gods.’

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