girls who cheat through labyrinths &
pray to baby's tombstones--

i was the girl who cheated
in the stone labyrinth maze &
the one who told our girl scout
troop that some of the 
tombstones were for babies--
the ones with the cherub 
faces worn by the rain--
6 months, 2 months, 8 days--
we were premature with
our fascination with death
because we played
in the graveyard behind
the old lutheran church--
sat on tombstones-- walked barefoot
on the freshly dug soil above
a new grave-- 
the brick church with the
glass window eyes
overlooked the town
like a grandparent:
slumped & disapproving of us
but still always falling
asleep in their rocking chair
-- the "cemetery hill" it was
known as by everyone from
the children whose parents sent
them to camp in the park
to the kids who thought of
the public pool as their godparent--
we took turns walking 
the stone labrinyth 
just inside
the cemetry gate while we sang
our songs over & over
make new friends & keep the old
one is silver & the other's gold--
i never had the patience
to walk the whole thing
& instead i hoped in between
the divisions-- reached out my
hands to other girls
who ran away from me--
a circle is round it has no end
that's how long i want to be your friend
they had started a rumor that
freckles could be contagious
& they didn't want any of mine--
i knew it wasn't just freckles--
girls are masters at finding ways
to make each other ashamed--
i stepped over each make-believe
wall of the gravel maze 
until i reached the center
& proclaimed i had made it--
to which they told me that it
didn't count unless you followed
the rules-- walked in the lines--
i told them they would get
haunted by baby tombstones--
bewitched by the rain-raw gaping-mouth angels--
trying to fly with stone wings--
the other girls
ran further up the hill towards
the mausoleum & so i sat &
let the stones chew
the backs of my thighs-- 
i decided that i would pray for
the tombstone babies & for the labyrinth
to grow walls to keep me inside
& this time for the circle to find an
ending-- or if not
for us to walk through walls
to find it--
a circle's round it has no
end.