way back yard
a part of me is stuck there
between the coal shed and the stone step
the white washed wall and the green window
everything is so small
the compacted earth
the brick path
it seems like there is more of me there
than there is here these days
the green shoot that the cat fell off
a ladder tied to the fence
the alcove between the back kitchen
and the outside toilet
where the zinc bath hung all week
all the rickety green doors that almost did
the clothes line cleat like the scabbard of a wooden sword
in the hands of a child at war with everything that thwarted
let’s not go down the wooden steps to the lower garden
not today for there are memories enough up here
between the coal shed and the stone step
there are faces in the windows
behind pale lace curtains that look for tears
in the dryness of a time suspended
gentle clarinet jazz filled my pen
and i wrote this in invisible ink
rub with lemon tears to see me
and follow suit
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