In Between

He tried twice to get into the hammock.

First time it flipped. Second time he slid

sideways off the edge, and everyone

laughed, including him, and I watched

from the patio step and couldn't do it,

couldn't make the laugh come out.

He got in on the third attempt.

Settled. The ropes went taut

in a different way.

The yard kept talking.

Someone said something about the game,

someone refilled their cup,

and I was just standing there

watching the hammock hold a person —

not sitting, not lying,

not one thing or the other,

just the weight of a body

finding the middle of two trees

and going still.

I don't know what I wanted from it.

I still don't.