Grounded

Grounded

Those summer evenings you were sent up early
To bed because you threw a piece of gravel
At your brother who kept calling fouls
So you tried to draw blood to make his lies true
The wide made bed was not yet ready for you
Daylight is when beds do their sleeping
The room like the room bereaved parents keep
Years after the boy died at first you refused
To get in it sitting down at your desk 
A square of cardboard wedged under one leg
To keep it from wobbling to work
On the story about what would have happened
Had Lincoln lived giving up in the summer
After his failed assassination 
Because you couldn’t imagine what
He’d be doing without a war to win
Or slaves to free those long summer evenings
That seem to intend never to end
As if getting in bed might hurry it along
You lay down listening to the desultory
Sound of your brother shooting baskets alone
The swish of the make the clank of the miss
Until in time you became resigned
To being grounded you were almost falling
Asleep when like a death penalty pardon
Someone called up the stairs that you could
Come down now come down and say you’re sorry