A Child's Sidewalk Topography

(…is the cup equal to the broth
or is the broth forever poison
to whatever pretends to contain it…)

at twilight, the play of children is heard
their voices soon to fade
then to bed and dream, to scheme and construct
the scratched logic of prayer in the dark
of fingers by instinct counted
the prayer void of light
the taste of dusk ever arriving and departing
every word murmured precious as just found pennies
all thought an angel’s tender legal
upon that sidewalk, in the dark, I stand considering:
a topography by children
a blue pink white hopscotch chalk destination
beneath a summer night’s dusty elms

(is the cup equal to the broth
or is the broth forever poison
to whatever pretends to contain it…)