Monday 25 June 2018

1 New Poem

Backyard Creations

We were as monuments there,
lighting tree fires,
building carved knick-knacks
from firepit logs

Living with brambles tangled
in hair and strewn about
on mother’s carpet that we scented
in pine sap and oak chips
every once in blue moon passage,
every once when things had less
sense than now with clear
eyes.

I see the old shed come down,
its wasted-away tremor shade
switched for a newness in
fiberglass and careful-poured concrete,
with windchimes and cuckoo vanes
set out front.

It wasn’t that it was so
beloved to me, that hearts danced
on merry gilding edge when it
came by,

But it smelled of ash
(pine sap, old ways)
just the same.

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