Battlefields

We tug at ourselves more now
than when we were just babies
on a playground, gathered
‘round a rope, knees
almost as dirty as the sand.

I saw the tornado coming, the tightness,
compact in the air. I could smell it
sneaking up the hill. Yet it startled me
when it crossed the line

of boys versus girls. I
dropped the rope. I let go
to watch its smallness fight
against its hunger. I always let go.