Rascals are back
to school, memories of
the summer behind,
ghost stories on tent-nights,
trampoline games by day,
cry of the loser sister, still
echoing in the empty backyard.
Next door granny smiles, recalling
the immigrant boy’s fair leadership
for the whole gang, brief visit of
Martin Luther King Jr. boyhood.
Trampolin beckons her in
temptation, she sneaks into it.
Alas, her back screams
at the first leap, the little girl
inside her vanishes
into the ancient time.
By Byung A. Fallgren