vervain______

the blueberry stains look like bruises on his skin. when i see them, hours later, my heart flips in my chest, running down its inventory of how the slight happened. it is a minute later i say aloud to remind myself "blueberries." then i rest. today, blueberry scones in the morning. his thumb looks as if it had been squeezed to bruising.

i stood outside with my coffee as he spun the bike's wheel. i am drawn to the woods. a matted path cuts through the green on both sides. teenagers and children use the path to get to the road. it runs by an old cemetary. i stand there considering choices that were made on this path, or not made. before the leaves came in, it was easily seen from my kitchen window. a young boy was wacking a tree one day with a stick. "why?" i wondered. when does the aggresion start? is it fair of me to consider this thought, as his gender is what drove me to it?
my son's first word is car. i had no part in this. he has at least 15 soft and cute stuffed animals. i only laugh at the irony. i give up control on a daily basis.