sunset morning

Published in The Pen, an anthology of college writers. Spring semester, 1998.

boarded up, broken down old playground

told my sister where i’d be at midnight

when no one is there and nothing is there

i sleep tight against the wooden fence gate

sunset morning i hear you cry

for all the children who will grow up to die

it isn’t fair and i think i know why

these statues crumble from time to time

worn old feet, forgotten shoes by the closet

sister don’t tell i’m under that streetlamp

fist on my face, moon rays and such

wasted my years wishing for long ago

the crooked wind blows straight

and mother still waits, calling out my name

sister never told, i wonder

this fence used to look so much taller

sunset morning i hear you laugh

for all the children who will outlive their past

it’s only fair and i think i know why

every generation has to find new light

boarded up, broken down old playground

asked my sister what keeps her near

this place no longer represents where we used to live

it’s all been replaced with high-rise rent