Gyroscope Review 15-2 - Page 22

Chainsaw Music by Pippa Little And when you were small we stepped on shadows-only for three blocks, our crazy hopscotch in dusty afternoons that smudged our hems, made us smell of road I was big enough to reach you plums snarled in a shark-tooth fence to jam their maroon glut later between each other’s lips – we listened for chainsaw music behind Lister’s wood yard, ran away unscreaming from his watchdog’s yawn your shoes shone and your mother loved you: perhaps God won’t mind if I pretend to be a church when you lie down in the imaginary of here, the two of us so tired and over the railway, always, the unavoidable house, all its windows open. Gyroscope Review 15 !