My mother asked again where are
the children. I said I’ll look. This time
I used my hands. The back windows
were vagued by the heat and I drew.
I said Jeffrey. I said I’m out to the store
can you watch the girls. My mother wrote
down notes. We’d been this far before.
Okay she said. In the window, a stick-
man leaned over a smoking stove.
A stick-girl behind him, branch-hands
out. I said gingerbread, lengthy
trail, pitchfork-town. I pushed
back against the glass and made
smoke. The clouds behind were
black with rain. She said where
is he now. Can you call the girls to supper
I said. We’ll try again tomorrow.