Helmet Strapped Tight

I found the helmet on the second shelf Behind the half-empty can

of primer paint The little blue chin strap is still buckled tight

To the width of her face

when she was seven

I didn't slide the plastic clasp I just set it down where

the dust was thin And sat back down on this overturned bucket

The folding table still has a pencil mark From where she pressed

too hard on a math sheet

We used to sit out here and tighten bolts On things that

weren't even broken Just to hear the ratchet click And keep the

night from moving on too fast

And then I heard it in the rafters

A voice from thirty years ago

When I was rushing us across the street Your small hand pulling

back against my palm

Saying, slow it down,

Dad

(slow it down, Dad)

The timer on the wall-light clicks The yellow bulb goes black

But I am staying on this plastic seat Trying to remember the

exact weight

Of a child

who didn't want to run

Oh, slow it down,

Dad (please slow it down)

Every single second that we hurried through Is the one I would

buy back tonight (buy back tonight)

The house light is on across the lawn

I stand up and brush the dust from my jeans

Ready to walk inside