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TAG
Allentown II
We
chased each other
On the playground
Knees gathering grass stains
We expected our mothers
To yell at us for later
So we shoved harder
One by one, the parents
Of my friends came
To shake the game
Being out in the dark,
Unacceptable for grade school
Kids, and then there were
What I believed
Two of us. The color of rusted gold
From the day sun, when
We were eight years old.
Lying on the ground, staring
At the smoke-twilight,
Spreading like a tumor
In the sky,
Changeless but mutable
We could have been
Sixty five. Hold my hand,
I would whisper, but
She was silent, eyes dank
And shadowed, body
Translucent and hollow
Enough to absorb the starlight
In Allentown, we saw
Starlight. We'd walk to
The swings, and I would
Kick and twist the chains
In the darkness,
But she was silent,
Staring.
At midnight in Allentown,
An eight year old was safe
But I wonder—
Did the neighbors ever notice
The child-apparition,
Chasing the dark, endlessly,
The ghost laughter?
If I return, will she still sit
In that swing, unlaundered grass stains,
On knees that her mother
Never noticed, hair wild and
Unkempt, trying to beat a voice,
Strangle a friendship
Out of her shadow?
SLEEPER
for Zandra
light fades in and out of the bedroom the
light is cold the light is dark. i face my
own forgetting your hair is dark your eyes unaware
of the then, i shout in silence
you don’t know what is behind me like
a neverending fever, the loathing
flame and ice
my head turns back and away dancing
darkened colour; the arms that gripped me
before you, wounded stories
you have heard and tried to understand,
you were a vision for my remnants, you rise and expand
you are always generous, my limbs sprawl
on the bed
the terror of falling
your breathing is a hymn,
i shiver, my body blares secret music, a
sphere much sadder than any mourning,
your arms are determined,
as i try to sleep,
you cradle an overcast soul.
UNSTAINED
we
used to fuck on the floor
he and i,
in his barely furnished
gray queens apartment,
his skinny frame shivering, a pretty picture.
i paused, then
wondering if I was ever
the irresistible girl.
curled underneath
him, we took long drags of the
same unfiltered cigarettes
every time.
he was strong i was soft,
a frightening disharmony.
in his cracked handheld mirror,
i struggled to find the emerald
beauty, some amorous melody
a reason to ask for his love.
Sara M. is a young poet, a regular at the PPW series,
who delivers her work in a riveting style. |