Child Discipline

by Jason Visconti

I wish its scars were an imaginary friend,
the trotting of my feet alongside a welcome wind,
the pride of my sleep while lying in love’s covers.

I wish they were an unexpected recess
Toting my conduct as sweet–
Their salutations planting in my garden of innocence.

I wish the belt buckle were
A raised hoop
I could throw my body into
And circle back again.

I wish each violent slap
Were a kiss on a whim.

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