A reappearance of Noahs,
clustered two x two
per classroom per suburb
individuated by iPhone
as in olden days by baseball caps
like the cousin Matthews in the Catholic family next street over, a-breeze with children, the bicycles sting-raying the neighborhood, the hamburger patties waxed n stacked, the beach gear the transistors at full tin bleat, the cousins who visit all August,All Matts (though some were also Chris)
until the new baby dispersed the children from the cul-de-sac
except the little girl, her scraped-high pony
slipping around the corner, loitering for a cousin,
dragging back when the dinner bell clanged
that everyone sit, ignore the stungun of the baby...
Where were the bigkids?there/their cereal boxes
separarating territories on the L-shaped couch...
the washer thrashed some uniforms
or diapers rank in plastic pails
The girl wanted to heave them up to Heaven.
She twirled the edge of her bunk bed, it's a shipwreck,
She's calling the lifeboat, the pirates, the cousins,
Who mostly ignored her, or teased her
For answering to Pookyboo like it were Catherine
Nobody calls the baby Babs or Bar or Barb or Dollname
Poor baby, poor haircut, poor robber hung up with Jesus
A lifetime of elders tut-tutting grandma was not a namesake
Some futures should be shot to ribbons, some names forgotted,
Like Ted. Like Barbara, Barbara, Barbara,
a way to start a motorcycle
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