A Toy No More

I wind the elastic band
until it knots and double knots
as taut, tumescent and unworldly
as a body builder’s pose.


I put the frail thing with springy
legs and buttons for wheels
on the road headed into the wind,
and release the red, plastic prop.
The toy waggles and takes to the air.


The little boy in me, beside me,
behind me watches after it in
exultation until the elastic relaxes,
the prop clock-stops, and it
glides on, out of reach, out of
breath but still flying . . . and
for a moment a toy no more.


FG January 13,2012

All rights reserved by the author Forrest Greenwood.