I Spy the Bones You Hide

He stops by the island’s graveyard. I spy with my little. Wonky crosses and sticking-up stones on the slope going down to the sea. He licks around his mouth and tastes the waves that got him on the ferry. The tonguesalt annoys his tummy. He told Mum and Dad he still felt sick but they were too squabbly to listen: only a few hours here, need to make the most, better to walk, no, to hire bikes, lunch now, lunch later, you forgot the sunscreen and hats? They’ve gone on up the road, haven’t noticed he’s missing yet. I spy with. Brownish birds hopscotching in the messy grass. He passes through the graveyard’s gates and sits on a rock, wiggles his toes and super strong legs and watches clouds changing shape. Wolf. Spiral. Demon with fangs. Whale swimming across the sky. He’s very brave being here. There are bones under his skin and under the grass. Skeleton bones. He usen’t to know about death. Then he saw Nana in the box and later the box in the ground. Once he told Mum he wished she’d die. He was sorry but he’s unsorry now. I spy. A shadow on the slope, not flat like shadows should be. He’ll stay until they find him, he’s braver than he’s ever been, until the ferry leaves and the moon comes up and their voices are lost from screaming his name, until summer is winter and summer again and hair grows on his face.