16 July 2006 | Vol. 6, No. 2

Red Bricked

by EVELYN LAUER

This is her spot:

a child in an apple tree, eyes falling

into the way things want to be

seen:    fence    sky    lilacs    stones:

what matters next is what

might just happen:    the color

of bricks in her mind,

more red than they actually are,

brown really, but she makes them

as red as she wants them to be,

under a leap-year moon when the boy

enters her mouth, and leaves her

full    of clouds.