Noah's arch and the animal crackers.

None of us were ready to pair off
two by two-- we held on to the hem of
each others skirts and tried to pretend
to be aardvarks and seals-- we crawled on our
bellies and barked at a new moon peeking over
the edge of the prickled-backed corn fields. 
I had always liked warm rain. 
This rain was the kind that
steamed off the tilled soil
like a lid lifted from a pot
of macaroni and cheese
for days 
before it resolved to fall.
This rain hung in our sugar bones and in our
ridged fake cheetah tails-- We put on masks
to be crows-- flapped our arms and tried to
jump high enough to convince them we were
capable of flight. Squawked on our knees--
Begged to be to let  
on board his arch that was only
a white bowl resting on the edge
of the counter top next
to the boxes of fruit loops and raisin bran. 
Some of the other creatures broke their
legs and fed their pieces to the camels 
and the lions-- smothered frosting on their
backs and tangled sprinkles in their matted
fur to be something desirable for the journey--
nibbled at their own femurs--
shared knee-caps and their mother's bed time stories--
dipped elbows into milk.
We laughed at all
the goldfish crunched under sneakers
on the kitchen floor.
We swept up their 
cheddar scales and salt bones. 
It had been comforting to think how there
would be more room for us in the bowl--
we counted the people who turned 
out to be goldfish and the people who 
turned into crumbs before
the rain came.
Some of them wanted their parents to be
the ones to eat them if there wasn't
going to be enough room-- 
broke off each limb one by one until 
they were nothing but cat-tails and 
crow masks and elbows and frosted-fur
We walked two by two and pretended and
to be doves-- everyone needs doves
in a cereal bowl or an arch or
a rain storm--
poured in tomato soup and milk and
steam from pots of macaroni and
cheese-- camels fractured by the 
prickled-spine, lions clamored-- mouths 
full of frosting and cheetah tails.
We found each other and held onto
each others skirt hems-- crawled into
the bowl as elephants or crows 
or doves-- no one believed we were doves.
We had always liked the rain--
held each other's trunks and pretended
to be a pair-- two by two
and two by two and crumb feet 
and cheddar scale in Noah's cereal bowl
perched on the counter top.
I had always liked the rain--
two by two and broken elbow and
watching for the black new moon
over the lip of the bowl.