Thursday, November 28, 2013

Another birthday poem

Recess, 1963

A metallic whistle trailing a lanyard
clenched in the teeth of a willowy woman
in a camel hair coat, broad collar a flaring
cone against the cold slap of a late
November wind howling over the gray
sand playground, one hard pinch of a simple
machine, it’s only purpose to pierce the heart
of recess and spring the jaws of phonics
fallen silent somehow, the afternoon dumb
struck, grades one through six a snarl
of marbles colliding on tangled trajectories
our orderly universe suspended in bliss
one eternal moment longer before coalescing
around the rumor’s crushing gravity
the older kids huddled on the four square
court by the boiler room door, entranced  
by a cyclone of leaves, the world gone
topsy-turvey while I hang absolutely
still from my knees at the very top
of the monkey bars, gazing on earth
above and sky below, an arrangement
more to my liking, a fine place where
it turns out, your birthday was
already in full swing, jarred forever
into a delicate new arc.

For Sue

No comments:

Post a Comment