HEROIC

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HEROIC

“I need to show you something.”

His father started in to the kitchen
and the screen door slapped hard
and before he could think to wonder what
the man was back with him in the yard,
thin red fire extinguisher in hand.

“See, you pull out the pin
and squeeze this and then–”

The can kicked
and spurted an illustration,
a plume of powder in the June air.

“Here.”

And suddenly the sleek metal
was heavy and cool against his eager fingers,
his mind burning little wildfires of protest
but also a desire to please
and please let me pass this test.

He steeled himself for the release
and tightened his hold,
so caught up in questions
and a boy’s quest to be bold
that he neglected to aim the nozzle
some place other than
his mother’s garden.

“Sam!”

The screen door slammed a second time
and she was at his side,
open-mouthed, stern
and squinty-eyed
in her survey of the damage:
the layer of ash on asters, dust covering the cosmos.

All three stood there staring
until the boy broke into a run
and got the green hose
and again sprayed into the sun,
the stream pushing away the gray layer
and popping off a flower head or two —
a small price to pay
for saving the day.

©2015 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz

LOT

PARKINGLOT

LOT

A whole row
of parking
marked SMALL CAR ONLY

spaces saved for the
skinny
sleek
petite
slender

Wide fenders
real thick with American steel
barely fit

Don’t you dare park there
jam your junk in the trunk
into spaces meant
for micro-vehicles

All that cargo room
crammed with nothing much
loaded up with leisure and greed

Take your suburban self elsewhere
and keep your big-assed SUV off this
sliver of city asphalt

This is reserved
for small cars only
the slimmer models
leaner bodies
the ones who sip fuel
and slip through streets
so breezily

So get on down the road
find another lot
maybe at that First Baptist Church
where the big-bodied
corn-fed cars
congregate

.

©2015 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz