A Poem in the Before Choice Disturbs collection

Playground

It was warm and sunny today.
In the playground I watched
the children go up and
down on the swings.
Some faced each other;
were in rhythm. In Time. The march
in their heads.
Children on swings
like prepubecsent sex.

Here they learn all
the rules. Like who's the most fun
to make drop to the ground
and say 'Uncle'.