(((Three poems inspired by remembered places in time)))
Daphne’s room, SL
could feed off that
month for years,
the time spent
sleeping in her bed
batting at nets,
or the five
minutes running
on a low wall
just above the afternoon
flood (a broth;
a carcass settling
in the pot.)
.
.
Parks
there are bells
tied to everyone’s laces. everyone walks
lightly, so the short high ring
is heard as low coughing,
and torn bark (rotten
slabs of bread).
and the dark comes fast
in the park, where blades nestle
in branches, and the heaviest
squirrel (god; king) flicks his tail
like a clean sheet, spreading
it over the earth.
.
.
School dance
Late, when she’s tired and got two fingers
saddled in his breast pocket,
they return each other’s weight at the hips
and sway only as much –
the next one out to watch
each other across the floor,
feeling gently unfolded, or cast
like spooled ribbon ‘cross the space.
The silk tongue running out –
Before, a few of them decorated,
finished early and hungry
and dressed. And one might’ve gone
to the window and wonder how much air
to let in, how much wind it’s taking
to bend it.
