(from the SLCC prompt: write a poem about the process of traveling from one place to another.)
I returned to an old town
I’d once called home for
a few years. I went to the
park where the trees were
somehow smaller and the
fountain now dry and spray-
painted and the play area
was covered over with
recycled sneakers in little
pebble-sized pieces. I saw
a house that looked familiar,
the outline against the sky
and the slope of the roof and
the attic window that could
just fit a small boy if he’d tied
together some sheets to make
a rope, but it was shabby and
tired and an unfamiliar tree
grew out from the foundation
and blocked the front window.
I did not cross the street.