The kid is letting the thread go
you go after itblue ring that binds it to earthskipping over tidal sinewclumped like battlementsyou are runningeven when the kitekeeps straightcauliflowering current the baysculpts without embankment fall deepseaward sea lionspop up their cat headsand pull yourself back outare we in someone’s short storyone of us asksas the kids run closewho can frame the box kite’s silhouettegrown smallerthe line unspooling as it risestoward oyster farm and salt worksfound latercaught in a yard’s brambleit would have flown through the night
In our silencewhich is like pretending to diewe are like the people I have seenasleep in the library
arms folded on the tabletopbags hard as weatherbeside them
they’ve been out on the long jobfrom place difficult to scratch
claim their station earlyand rise at closing time
and I have seen their…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, May/June 2019