yellow tire swing

the sturdy orbit 
of a fly around a skull. 
back & forth insect. we were kids 
in the only playground
& you pushed me into the sky
until it snapped like 
glass candy. a grain of sugar,
like a seed freckling 
in the dirt. you on one side
& me on the other. chains 
holding us up. a spider web 
in the cavity of the tire.
an animal waiting 
to leave bite marks 
on our ankles. you were not
my brother, you were 
just a playground child
& we exchanged names & i forgot yours
only a day or two later. you became
a boy on a tire swing & so did i. 
we crouched in the mulch.
fingers made of worms. pendulum 
swinging one of us on either side.
you with your messed curly hair
& me with me hair buzzed short.
the swing wove higher,
went all space ship 
in our urging. we had dads
back in the soil. i wanted
to flying saucer without you
& find myself cloud perching.
a squirrel watched us
from a branch with his 
deep black eyes. the squirrel
went & told his family that humans 
were trying to destroy themselves.
he was only slightly wrong.
all the contraption
& the clink of chain 
as you got off the tire swing.
i asked you to stay. balance
the weight. i wanted to keep 
pulsing. you turned 
& became a red car far away.
i wanted to star-fish lay
but i was too small.
i fell through several 
donuts. mulch clung to my back
& poked into my skin. 
what thresholds do you pass through now?
a yellow tire swing blooms 
in my doorways. a part of me
is still waiting
for you to balance 
a sway.