Samuel Minier:

Writing in the Dark

Johnny goes twist, Jenny goes snap

Little kid noises banging wetly,

the monkey bars a skeletal husk

in moonlight.

Laura burns bright, Tommy sprays wild.

Flames like ocher and scarlet peels of

merry-go-round paint, and slippery riverlets

down the spiral slide.

Steven dangles, Cara swells.

Swings of shadow from chains

looped-the-loop to nooses, like coiled

snakes hanging.

but now

John shakes his head, Jen laughs.

All the other grown-ups smile at

the hide-and-seek scavenges of youth.

The playground is dead, to them.