 |
| poet and sister after church sometime in the 1970's |
where did I go
a lover darkly
what childhood came
wind to fire
what got me high, wired
kited by ways spy days
lazy river songs I
would long for
when does play
get after
did I know
not to know
flow wolves go
where shadows
are born onto the light
I so longed to be
in the Sun again
I was sure the picnic after church
was to be rained on and we would
cramp ourselves into the basement gymnasium
eight foot tables lined up, connected, covered
by vinyl, patterned with the colors
of death and salvation
we were wee an army
bibles and bellies full
of things we could recollect
curing with warm hearth sate
and the strength of our community
the rents we pay
are for the sunshine
rain is free
as long as you
don't mind
being born
all the time
I listen to music
when I poem
I never know
what to do
when the quiet comes
like morning again
ready to be made
into something surreal
or beautiful
or odd
or necessary enough
to share with first
my caffeinated fingers
and then the quick edit
of a few re-reads
louder and prouder
with demonstrative beckoning(s)
here the poem
like most of us
I imagine
waits to breathe
having already
taken a seat
near where
the desserts
were kept
EJR ©
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hello there ...