St. Peter’s Picnic Circa 1983

by Ann Marie Wranovix

There are no orphans anymore
at St. Peter’s, but the sun shines
hot as ever on the dunk tank,
on the shooting gallery and the little train}
inching along the pavement in a slow loop.

Politicians sweat like everyone else,
passing out bags and balloons
and emery boards.  Fans flutter
in the thick air and more kids
per square foot than anywhere else in Memphis}
clamor for hot dogs and lemonade.

There are no orphans anymore,
or none that live here, but the needs remain:
a nursing home to fund, a temporary
home for troubled girls, a daycare center
where babies still wait for parents to show up.

An old woman in a wheelchair
with a balloon tied to the arm
stirs the air with a fan marked
“Vote for Murray” and watches the children
snatch plastic ducks from a trough of water.

Grab the wheels quick before
she floats away lifted up
like orphans light as helium
balloons let loose by careless children.
Pile on the politicians, load up
the train, fill every bag with blue bears
and rings and watches and penny candy.

Make all the children lie down
together and press against the earth
with the full weight of every attachment
before the ground trembles and the grass flies.