-Elementals-

Into Saturday evening
And the ravioli are hand-made, the edges
Fork-pressed and in a bedroom vacated for the night,

A laundered top-sheet covers the double bed,
Is flour-dusted ready to receive them.

This is where the ravioli rest
As they harden overnight, a process
Necessary to hold the edges together 
When submerged into water.

The streetlights are on

So they won’t let us go outside.
Our mothers kept time
By the streetlight activations

And before our passion for exploration
Broke from their roots, we played outside
Close enough to home

That a mother’s call was clearly recognized.

When the streetlights came on
The names of the kids reverberated
Throughout the neighborhood.

In the evening from the kitchen window, the park

Looked cold, bluer, like a giant
Outer planet longing to be populated.

That’ll be our job in the morning.
And from the bedroom's top-sheet,

The ravioli wait their turn to enter the water.

                                         Quequechan