The neighbors next door
(fifty years old),
Pluck granites from the garden and
Throw them plink into the lake,
Then laugh like young boys. 

There’s a fire in the grill nearby,
Searing the flesh off
Fresh fish and ground venison. 

A girl-cousin, who turned eleven this year
(she thinks she’s twenty one),
Forgets that she is now a lady
And joins her brothers by the fire, 
Stabs at embers, 
Explores dark tunnels, 
And dangles bare feet in water. 

I sit on a stone bench with notebook in hand.
I sigh, and look at the lake.
Clarity is echoing in my mind. 

But then dinner comes and
Girl-cousin remembers her age. 
She eats Dark Chocolate and Mahi-Mahi
(she’s secretly sad that it’s dolphin,
but she’s an adult now).

The next day I hammer a poem
Into Microsoft Word
And wait for lunch
Where I sit at the grown-up table,
Away from young cousins
(who think they’re twenty one).


1 Comment

  1. chughes said,

    June 18, 2007 at 3:04 am

    This is alive, i can smell the cooking food, feel my girlhood in the young lady.
    Stanza three is a world within the world.

    Nice work.

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