September Unshining: In Memoriam of Boykidness

Nina Gravlee and Chloe Sherril-Howell / VMag at UVA

I. Kindergartening

My boys and I know how to live the life right; we have

So many dreams bubbling water fountain and antsy-sidewalkseam!

The world’s gonna end tomorrow, we whisper proud-and-glinty-eyed,

And nobody knows but us.

We are freeing paper caterpillars from their nonexistences

With safety-scissors snipping in ways you’ve never seen.

We are at the brightplastic shop counter swapping mulch

For mulch but we’re swindlingsmooth those sorry siltsuckers!

O September! My September! You gorgeous beginning, you

Autumnal thingamabob buzzycoursing between our little stickout ears!

We will never forget you and you will never die!

After snacktime, September sticks supplecrusty to our smiles,

Glittering up each stalactite-crevice of our teeth.

We carry September until someone wipes us clean;

We’ll bask in our boykidness again tomorrow.

II. First-Graded

I stand silhouette and cloudlined, having run-up-that-hill.

Before me, this near-endless whiteclover, this vast-and-chillsudden-ness

That is… unsortshapely and refuses to fit within warm-September’s puzzlebox.

Down the shallowvalley, the boys play new games

Called Runtackle, SHOUT!, and Give Each Other Nosebleeds. I am almost uninterested.

Boys, we’ll take you in as brothers if you want to be us.

We play We Are Horses, We Are Cats of Complex Socio-Political Intrigue.

We crush colorstones into paintpowder. We paint!

We weave whiteclover-crowns queenly!

Virgo-maiden, I hear you laughing, but I’m unsure

If it’s mirthmusic or mournful. You’re one to talk, anyway.

You’re the one flung through the ecliptic-night, arms-trailing and utterly

Out-sunshone! I am glowing on my cloverhill. I swear I’m the sun!

…

I ghost drag above the shallowvalley, bundle

Pebbley-colorstones in my skirt and turn away.

III. Basemently Later

I’ll meet my boys basemently later; we’ll play Skylanders and Infinity,

Choose our screenselves, a small-body,

Step-and-settle to the launchpad. Wait. Ready? Go!

We soar with mirthmusic; we ascend skyward!

We are moviemagic, pixelplastic, anything but ourselves.

And yes, we are winged-and-whimlimited by Xboxcode,

But no, there is no Virgo unshining on that hill tonight.