Reconnaissance
Jessica Packhorse skips down the sidewalk, scoring out
squares of cool gray cement in odds and evens, whipping their flanks with the
red wooden handles of her jumprope.
Mama, if you live in these cracks, I will love you, even to
the jadewater green of your weeds, the pocket-lint fuzz of your candy corners.
I am the call of the desperate, the clothing of the clouds looking for a great
wind to carry me home. When the sun splits the cap of the mountains, I will
sleep and try not to wake, perhaps just to ask for the time, a drink of water,
a word of comfort. And when I lie back down, the pillow will hide half my smile.
Jessica pulls out a square of white chalk, scratching the
exes and ohs in her path, hiding a world of secrets in the press of her teeth.
First published in Alphabet
Faucet
(Bellingham, Washington)
From the collection Great Showtunes of the American Stage Photo by MJV
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