That summer of polio imposed boundaries
I kept watch, waiting for some word
about my friend next door
her small legs crippled by polio.
In the afternoon I picked blackberries
filling my galvanized pail
then painted my itching chigger bites
with clear nail polish.
At dusk I caught lightening bugs
put them in quart jars
with silver artemisia
and stems of tall grass.
In July my friend’s mother called
said she’d cut her daughter’s hair
into a pixie to make her cooler
in the sweltering heat.
After supper my mother cut my hair
I scattered the strands of blond
hair over the delphiniums
and freckle throated foxglove,
Across the sprouts of indigo salvia
through the branches of the
mimosa tree that stood
between the two houses.
Longing for some miracle
some magic healing
an end
to the boundaries.
