Chalk Canary

for Wes

I am the chalk canary on the wall

of the bathroom stall, whispering

wild verbs, feral nouns

down the hall

to the ears

of the child with the bear.

There he stands all alone, alone

with my yellow canary words.

Splish-splash! His mind is an ocean,

my whispers are windy tomes,

pages of song and spring,

winding round

and round

til not a sound, not a song

of the morning can wake him

from the imaginary canary dream.