At my window, I write:
Three children in the swings
testing how high they can go,
how much the chains will hold.
I imagine this April air
humming in their throats,
the trees behind them
disappearing like ice.
Off to one side
a younger kid awaits his turn
and pats the ground while his mouth
opens in a cry or a yawn.
Today I feel like that kid.
Last night I opened my arms
to embrace my muted dreams
and when I awoke I went around
shutting every door and window.
Nothing will happen. The sky
will go on circling above.
The trees will dig deeper.
In this corner of the planet, with
an angle of sunlight on my shoulder,
my pencil tucked away,
I stand up and leave.
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Comments
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The last three lines of the piece sum the entirety of the piece for me. Though the rest hold powerful imagery, the last three lines are what do it for me.
An excellent piece that Trejo has written here, if I were able to applaud this, I would.
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Such an interesting, realistic piece. I could relate to everything about this piece. The images of the children playing is so vivid, and then letting the dreams go - knowing you can't do anything about past loses...Thats what I thought about while reading.
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