These are my forever children
pointillist figures
pinioned in the emblazoned spray of a sprinkler.
They were playing, fighting with delight
the stinging, crying out
in the shattering water
until I caught them
just this way:

Sarah arching protectively
Julia leaning obscurely, an emergent form
Mark at a remove, backing away.
Look closely now
these are light’s awful bullets
my children are being killed
by afternoon and by joy
all together they are falling falling
into perpetually uncertain now.