Early Lessons: The Quest

Little legs running, little legs pumping—
from living room to kitchen to cousin’s room I ran,
not knowing what kept me going,
not knowing, not knowing . . . .

But I was after something!—
some secret that swirled like smoke
around the tweed knees, the nylon shins.
The hushed talk of the grownups made an electric din.
It charged me up, v’room, v’room, and I kept going

from hall to porch to stoop and back
through perfume cloud and fog of cigarette
and the phone kept b’r’ringing
and my legs kept ru-running, ru-ru-running

till I scooted to a narrow hall outside a bedroom
and a door left temptingly ajar.
O I peeked in!—
and suddenly stood still,
stood very, very still
and glimpsed the secret
displayed, plain as morning, on a yellow spread:

the body of Aunt Peggy on the bed.