SARAH VAP
"It is winter, so it will rain. The house"
It is winter, so it will rain. The house
swells as the children pull off the legs
and arms of lego people. Half of the summer’s
garlic dries across our living room. Half
the summer’s garlic rots because the rain
came early this year. Kill, say the children,
all the bad people. Dark Vader, they notice,
has lost his hand as Luke has lost his hand
as the pirates lose their hands
and are given the hook. Winter, snagging
at the children in the house, snagging at the house
with their plastic hooks, their father’s wool socks
pulled up their thighs for peg-legs. Snagging
their limbs pulling out the eyes
for their patches and pulling themselves, snagging
children, at the home so that the home
will never, not terribly, still.
110 The Paris-American
It is winter, so it will rain. The house
swells as the children pull off the legs
and arms of lego people. Half of the summer’s
garlic dries across our living room. Half
the summer’s garlic rots because the rain
came early this year. Kill, say the children,
all the bad people. Dark Vader, they notice,
has lost his hand as Luke has lost his hand
as the pirates lose their hands
and are given the hook. Winter, snagging
at the children in the house, snagging at the house
with their plastic hooks, their father’s wool socks
pulled up their thighs for peg-legs. Snagging
their limbs pulling out the eyes
for their patches and pulling themselves, snagging
children, at the home so that the home
will never, not terribly, still.
110 The Paris-American
Sarah Vap is the author of five collections of poetry, the most recent are Arco Iris (Saturnalia Books, 2012) and End of a Sentimental Journey (Noemi Press, 2013). She is a recipient of a 2013 National Endowment of the Arts Grant for
Literature.
Literature.
