Michigan
spread like a broken arrow across my bed,
flat, low, legless, window ajar to grey heat of night-shroud summer, i remember that
there was a child once upon the top bunk could touch the ceiling without fear
had legs like wheeling mills, spilled baby fat-shaped across cousin-shared sheets.
this kid passes over like a ghost,
resonant in the pillar of silence before cricket harps.
4 thoughts on "Michigan"
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Haunting…
I agree with Kevin, the contrast between the vitality of youth and the perceived stillness of adulthood is quite haunting in this piece. Thank you for sharing.
I feel this, too–and was transported back to my summers in a Michigan cabin on Houghton Lake with cousins. And brought decades back again.
Lovely. Thank you.
thank you all!