Pear Tree
by Kevin Holden

Captain Billy to Luke by the picnic tables, along streambeds.
They sailed a toboggan over the clearing, dropped cornbread to blue jays.
Flew kites.

[static] “Captain Billy, where are you,
it’s Luke, over.”
[static] “Luke, I’m here by the streambeds,
they’re silver, you should see it, over.”

But the last time Luke had seen them,
there was nothing remotely metallic about them.
Luke knew what that meant.
Luke knew that that meant they were dead.

In mornings they walked along streambeds, took naps by magnolias, ate cornbread,
every place percolating gold foil.

Clouds sink past sunbeams and our boys are gone like the red flannel rooster
gone to a place back behind dusk and each of the flowers
the river an ash heap all captains over and out.

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