just an inkling, some remote
twist, a logic requiring quiet,
no tossing of pillows, just a faint
urging to protect.
the sky’s the same, everlasting
blue, a scud of puffballs, but
the SUV backs out to town, the mud
road now bewhiskered with yellow
dandelions, the ruts not so bad
supplies tumble onto back seats, kids
sit amidst calculators and pencils,
a fatalistic sham prepared to keep
their innocence sealed in rooms
covered by chintz, photos of Jesus
plastered over windows to keep
the devil out.