It's 2003 and the grass is up to my knees,
And there's not much that I remember other than the AOL screen,
My sister is ramballing as she lays supine in the grass,
It towers over her and there's not much that I can say back,
When I look at her, she's swallowed whole,
As if she's inside of a mystical jungle, one like in a photograph I've seen,
But she's telling me about the news report she saw on the computer earlier today,
It's the most boring summer in years for students,
I'm not a student, not yet at least, I'm not even three.
But my sister at five, she goes to school, swallowed unto the belly of the yellow school bus,
Where she comes home to tell me of kids, Nicole and Brandon, nick and kaitlyn,
And how one day I'll have more friends, too.
A car huffs by, black wheels on boiling asphalt.
I lack the knowledge to know that the car is still driving when it goes out of my view,
Like the empties on the counters, the contents were never a forethought.
Mom pulls the strings, the play goes on, and I sit down.
The sun crowns my baby blond hair, it will turn brown soon, it will curl too.
The grass will grow past my knees, and a cabin will strangle the life from my eyes,
But my mind wanders to the cats inside,
My mind wanders to a place where the grass reaches past my knees.
YOU ARE READING
Stasis
PoetryStasis. 1. a period or state of inactivity or equilibrium. A collection of poetry written mid pandemic and mid depressive spell.
