The man to the left of the seesaw
is missing his right hand.
The seesaw is now a canoe.
The canoe, carved from the rib
of a mammoth, has docked
between two national flags.
The striking, bearded gentleman
in the foreground is you.
The smudge to the right of the scene
is my missing right hand
is my persistence.
The day is now night.
The summer is now an orchestration
of clouds, sharking me all day.