That Day on Sullivan Street

Tuesday, June 1, 2021

in my father’s cherry red car / we sailed down the faithful road / that cut through my hometown / my ears buzzed with the promise / of hearing my grandmother’s voice / the golden sun outlined her maple tree / where the tired swing sprung roots / as my scuffed shoes met her driveway / the blond of the sun turned crisp / the edge of earth now buttered and baked / my skin licked by butterscotch light / then without roaring clouds / or chills pulled from the spine of midnight / streams tapped on tin roofs / in that place of showers mingling and then bolding fully diving into sunshine / I found daydreams could live in the same place as / scraped knees and dried tears / on the eves when snow sticks in my throat / and I long to hear the honeyed chorus / of hazel eyes and undented youth / I hold my palms out / and feel the river revival / that the horizon spews

This piece was published in Issue 4 of Words & Whispers Journal.

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