moving to the future

my arms are crossed behind your back
my fingers are too
as though we're raising a stout hammer 
to a sickle moon

I can only watch through this rapid door 

the holiness of 

infancy, childhood, school's odd certitude

and uncertain youth 

your smile now a secret scroll of prophecy 

close to breaking

lashed in ritual errancy and exhortation to 

a city of last resort

and your keys to a kingdom of possibility

yet you share, sweet child--

as you unbar our door to swing open yours--

so warmly, a spare set