In Camp, a Roadrunner

We run

past the floodlights                block after block 
past barrack Q-55-C
past Tooru picking weeds.                     barefoot

               every Hawaiian we know                      barefoot

past Mr. Akahori’s raisins fermenting in jars of water 
past a hundred sewing needles
            in the room our mothers poke

                        the edges of shower curtains                        aprons                     mattress covers 
over and over                          until the war ends
We chase you to the side of camp we’ve never seen 
You stop at the fence                              stand in its shadow we dive for you
             grab at your feathers and miss

Kaz lands on my legs                             and you                 ducking

              under the barbed wire                              make it to the other side

                               We watch                behind the wall                       of sharp edges

You run

past the hoofprints 
past the shell casings

past the lookout station a mile down the road 
            and then                    you’re gone
                              as if you outran the sun