like a basketball
so high with every toss
like a doll they throw
(but scorn to hold or cuddle)
up goes the baby girl
laughing first
then screaming
up up again
almost to the ceiling
they feel their strength
the power of deciding
whether to play the hero
to find out what it means
to grow to men
the choice to stretch out sturdy arms
to catch
or just to watch
what happens
when they don’t
whichever way
it ends
this room will freeze the picture
this angry house preserve
what memory may
try to bury
