Boom

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Boom

She woke a tiny girl in a large apartment

marooned on a canopy bed high in the sky

Walls of glass – far above this new concrete

city -silently scurrying far far below -her bed

piled high with pillows – a cover to be called

a duvet – as though it made all the difference.

Her mother took her swing, made a good deal,

accepted as a sign from a divine Universe the

tall man who kept coming back to Do-Drop-In

diner and finally after thousand cups of coffee

and steamy side-wise smiles took them away

to here –Her mother now wore shoes with high

heels and bright red lipstick – lifted a little finger

when she sipped wine – from a closet filled with 

fancy glasses – all the same – all sorts of repeat 

things like that here – fat stuffed animals choked

with neck bows glassy-eyed on the window seat 

like one of those infinity mirrors things repeating –

on and on in this endless apartment -a pinned up 

butterfly behind glass walls –she lay marooned on

this canopy bed high in the sky and -it was wrong 

selfish wrong -she knew it-but she could not deny 

that she ached for the small stream at the end of 

the dirt road behind the school where she used to 

stop on the way home - looking for tadpoles and 

the glint of copper pennies -she knew it was wrong 

to look for a line that would draw them back – back

to wish each thing to vanish into a vacuum of never-

had-happened – for time to fly back to the then-when

she walked on ground - bare feet in the soft warm dirt 

of home – hope a thing that was only an ache in her 

mother’s eye.

 The Sunday Whirl