Roland, Manitoba

I close my eyes and I can remember
the exact shade of teal and purple
we painted the playground of that one-horse town
the summer I turned seven.

The dust in my lungs, the scorching heat
The endless prairie and the tumbleweeds
The emptiness, the crushing loss
Bobbing below nervous anticipation
Will I make friends?
Will I see Dad again?
Will this stuffed toy elephant
be an adequate excuse for a father?

Four years' blur of crying on the floor
Watching my family turn into monsters
Four years' learning that fear is the natural condition
for a youngest child
Four years' learning that the world can't be trusted
and nobody
will be there for you.

In that playground I always rode on the swings
Maybe if I swung high enough
I'd get lost in the sky and never
have to come back down again.

I was caught on those swings when he
found out that I told
I was caught on those swings when he
choked the world away
I watched that playground get smaller
and smaller

...I still remember
the exact shades of those colours.