Last Day of KIndergarten

In the photograph
the boy is ecstatic,
set free, a young king,
everything ahead of him.
There is nothing he can’t have
if he wants it and he wants it,
as does his friend beside him.
They are ready now to ride off
together and slay dragons,
rescue the world. It’s all here
in the park after the last bell;
it’s here in the green summer
they have been released to.
It’s here in their manhood.
They’ve only finished kindergarten
but they understand freedom
and friendship. They’re on top
of the picnic table, they’re on top
of the world in their tennis shoes,
they have raised their arms,
they are such men as could
raise continents; they have
survived. Look how their
fingers reach the sky
and their legs are sure as
horses. Their bodies
will forever do anything they ask.

Marjorie Saiser, I Have Nothing to Say about Fire (The Backwaters Press, 2016)