I remember wealthy hair
and the song of cheap chimes
that called me as a child.
I walked softly then, not to lose
the music, walked with my throat
full of wind, stopped at the fence my father
built so the outside was safe.
No one could take us, bright-eyed strangers,
great neighbor dogs who moved like lions,
proud and territorial, sniffing for their cubs,
whose baby scent was still
on every other fencepost. Father saved us
from all this: the strangers and their dogs,
the slight iron singing they’re gone they’re gone.
I like it! I am reminded of a poem you wrote long ago about that fence, and I think this one's much lovelier. I get a lot of images from this one, and I like that too. Mm! A child's summer.
ReplyDeletei wrote another poem about that fence? I don't remember it! This came after reading a collection by Li Young Li. Also lots of editing.
ReplyDelete