Bottom of the Well

Some days she feels paint
others; words and dreams
And her slave driving boss makes her work in the kitchen, faster, faster
it is a holiday
yet her little sons are still in school
in a panic she realizes
she is very very late
she runs to the school, to the principals office
heart pounding
Administrators look down their noses at her
She is ashamed
the boys were crying she is told
-YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND she shouts as she grabs the telephone from the receptionists desk
-THE LITTLE ONE IS ONLY THIS BIG
she indicates he comes up to her hip, when he is standing
where did they go,did somebody steal them?
She fears the worst

The boys are in a white clapboard shack
abandoned and still, by the river's edge
Lost boys, abandoned
as usual, alone, together

She floats through the rooms over dirty hardwood floors
discarded cracker boxes litter the room
then outside
to find
The little one is sleeping on the roadside
in the grass
she nudges him repeatedly
-This is not safe

they return to the shack and lie down by the window
background of moonlight and darkness
still waters mirror the sky
-It is so peaceful here, she says to the young ones in her arms

-Yes

And they are walking collecting treasures
feathers, rocks and leaves

As they approach the overgrown walkway to the clapboard house
She sees him
The man is the Authority
Severe eyes, warm rust colored beard, soft voice
He says, in a whisper,
-Are you coming in here?
he is trying to decipher whether or not she is the one
She pretends to live somewhere else
to be someone else
someone other than the irresponsible mother she knows herself to be
-We are just going for a walk
calm voice, poker face
-Then why do you look so afraid?
-Perhaps you misunderstand me
-Perhaps