We watched them dismantle you today, “End of an Era.”
First, the long thick pole rolled down the X beams; it
held the swings through all their rocket circuitry.
Then the beams themselves that supported the pole and
made the base for the now too-small blue slide, whose
sleek surface more than once took careening mass of mother and child
down to a heap of laughter and smiles.
Launch pad for sleds, homemade waterpark,
gentle guide for those words, “Go on, you can do it.”
Next , my favorite, two flat platforms, survey posts of the cat but
with enough space for spies to hide or a small hostess to serve tea.
Finally, all the round dowels holding you together, now twisted out
from sockets, but not from memory.
No, those memories live!
And with them, the people who climbed your mountains, who
now swing higher and harder, thanks to you,
toward invisible constellations.