August 19
Sep 12, 2020
I remember
One playhouse,
Two chairs,
Four blankets,
Twenty drops of rain,
Your hands working beside mine
Before I’d even asked.
Crickets in the night,
Your face unmasked in the garden lights,
Conversation so good, our clothes stayed on.
Childhood poems and rethinking history:
Systems to be undone,
Holes to fill.
Where is my little voice that always says no?
Rushing to the cliff’s edge and pulling back
Again and again
Calling your name in the dark
Hands brushing the grass
© Copyright 2020 Autumn Looijen
