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Louisa Hooper

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For Isaac

In Aoi’s photograph it’s mostly green
common, with cropped grass stretching wide to all
four corners of the frame, but you and I,
we’re also there, with my arm reaching down
to hold your hand, like we’re unequal sides
of a triangle, me ahead and you,
with smaller legs, behind, the whole green common
the horizontal plane we’re leaping from.
In memory, however, it’s the woods
I see, the shaded path that’s soft with earth
and leaves, but tricky too for little feet
to negotiate, strewn with snapping twigs
that curl towards the sky and catch at you.
We’re crouched there on the path where something small
has caught my eye, an acorn, and it’s new
to you and giving you its name I feel
important. Acorn. It’s an easy word
to say aloud and, when we wander on,
you take it with you like a souvenir.

 

Page(s) 49

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