Thursday, May 3, 2012

366 Days: Still Here, Still Writing



Childhood, 1934
Do you remember our childhood?
There was the empty schoolyard.
There was a gnarled dogwood tree, white blossoms,
smell of brushfires scenting the air.
It was hot that summer,
sweltering, you bent before me
writing secrets on the dusty ground.
Late evenings cooled off.
Daddy brought us ice chips
and laughed at the chickens, clucking and pecking.
Yes! How could I forget this? Yes!
We were girls together.
Dripping beads of water, tasting dust.
We saw the sun going down. Going down.
Watching our mother’s back
as she waltzed away.
Forgive her.
Forgive us.

3 comments:

Maya Stein said...

You've caught me speechless. All I can say is, "beautiful."

Jolie said...

Deep exhale.
Good stuff here, my friend.

elizabeth said...

I am in AWE

AWE

Who is this woman you have become?? THIS AMAZING KICK-ASS POET you have released from the bottle?

I love her. xoox, e