The Baby Wore Pale Yellow

i remember
the black.
we had to be somber,
he said,
but not the baby,
put the baby on the swing
and we will pretend to be happy
for back home,
always for back home
movies made
but never sent
not even once
grown dusty now
creaking on plastic spools
hidden away
decades of forgetting,
words spoken to people
now long dead
who never heard
what was said
just for them
only one mother the whole world over
and in the blur of grass
one particular blade
green among all the many others
beckoned
and he reached down to touch it
and then I put him
on the swing
smiles, laughter
for the baby just today
nothing different
how do you like to go up in a swing
striving, asunder inside,
valiantly and happy
i will be the gladdest thing under the sun
even when inside i would most like to fade away
and come back another day
and try this again
with someone else
who can feel happiness and loves me
and does not call me names
and does not try to force me
to exist as though i were not me
as though i were the same as all he was inside
and everywhere he had come from
no way to get there
no way to ever be
anyone but who i was
but i kept molding myself
fervent student of perfection
even when motherfucking bitch
came out of such a lovely smile
and tears welled up in sad eyes that
had once been filled with wonder and hope
even then the precious moments
the rain is falling all around it falls on field and tree
and holding hands and saying look at the birdie
and oh see the pretty leaf.