The Strangers They Become

By Vincent R. Pozon

Children disappear into the grownups
they become, into adult chassis,
behind facial hair, they vanish

into ghost chasers, into bearers of lore
and wisdom and agents of art
we did not see written on the wall.

The formerly frolicsome, children
who ran about in pointless patterns,
they disappear into frowns and causes

The trinkets and trophies sleep in drawers
no longer drawn, fingers now beringed
by graduations or chapel rites.

The clingy and the ones you could leave
alone rapt with planes and toy tea sets
disappear into the unwell and paunchy

or into the sylphlike and sinewy,
into fathers and mothers shaped by
blueprints we were not privy to.