promise told to keep children in line till
they learn a new fable. What have I made?
I ask, looking at the yard. How have I
progressed? What have I inflated into,
and if I’m amplifying, is the swell
intangible, the way a spirit increases?
Or am I over-multiplying and
refusing to die at the same time like
a tumor cell? I have raised two babies,
one of whom I’ll never fledge for his
injuries which I can’t discuss in public for,
well, I’m sure you know how people become
convinced by what’s in their portfolios,
especially when authority reassures them all
is fine. I have propagated flowers that
died as seedlings for reasons of weather,
ignorance, and neglect, and woven together
hundreds of thousands of words few have read,
creating scenes I alone enjoy on the back
screen of my mind, like living in one, two,
sometimes three worlds filtered over the
lady I greet at the corner, who’s walking
to the library, stops to confess she enjoys
when a man she envies stubs his toe.
Sandra Kolankiewicz's poems have appeared widely, most recently in Galway Review, One, Otis Nebulae, Trampset, Concho River Review, London Magazine, New World Writing and Appalachian Heritage. Turning Inside Out was published by Black Lawrence. Finishing Line has released The Way You Will Go and Lost in Transition.