hometowns.

Familiar scene, my kneecap
a crushed plum, clinging in
vain to the juices carving
rivers down my shins, strawberry
palms wince in the breeze, cleansing
sting of the water faucet,
peeling bandages open and
marveling at the miracle
of healing, indifferent to
my oversight, the body
yearns to live, the spirit
softly sings its thanks –

I traveled to Pennsylvania to
heal, and so it shall be done,
the shedding of skins I donned
to brave the concrete and its
cruelties, small reminders I
am a soft creature, sincere
and warm and open-eyed, my
return to form taking its
pound of flesh.

Show you the town we
all scoffed at, here was
the building where I roared my
first cries of heartbreak, twice
over, now a stretch of grass
where students belt the
National Anthem and laugh,
lovely the way the sun pours
honeyed color across the
sky as it leaves, I was here,
I was here, and I won’t
forget to visit this place again.

The old woman grins, her eyes
somewhere far and away, I
I wonder is she wandering,
this street, missing bricks but
drunk with the aroma of bread,
the small blue house they’d chosen,
mornings to the melody of
their daughter’s laughter, the
violet blur of some city, verdant
peace of a nameless town, homes
from the past she never had
the wherewithal to let free.