Mom bought
a hammock,
twenty-nine,
ninety-five and

delivered:

two-tone green
polyester parachute,
pair of carabiners and
canvas straps wrapped
round tree trunks, twenty

feet apart,
a wisp of cloud,
just off the ground

in our backyard. The sun
reaches in and
warms the back
of the book, spread
wide upon
my chest, unread
for at
least the last
half hour.