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Grace Song
Drinking in Riverview Park,
the sun, an actor, hand to his heart,
slid down a tavern wall;
the sun, my mother's solemn cheek.
While boys in yellow jerseys
whirled around a ball, and a yolk
slipped into the sea.
I wake alone to stork-legged sun
gentle at the foot of the bed--
it lifts the leper city from its knees--
and remember the child
peaking over
telephone books on a window ledge;
the mornings
that hoisted themselves
on the pockmarked backs of my lovers.
I can feel it in my chest
how you lean in and back away.
Lane Falcon
Drinking in Riverview Park,
the sun, an actor, hand to his heart,
slid down a tavern wall;
the sun, my mother's solemn cheek.
While boys in yellow jerseys
whirled around a ball, and a yolk
slipped into the sea.
I wake alone to stork-legged sun
gentle at the foot of the bed--
it lifts the leper city from its knees--
and remember the child
peaking over
telephone books on a window ledge;
the mornings
that hoisted themselves
on the pockmarked backs of my lovers.
I can feel it in my chest
how you lean in and back away.
Lane Falcon
Copyright © 2008 Lane Falcon. All Rights Reserved.
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Hear Lane reading her poem.