Swinging
She's not the type that jumps off swings But clings to the rusty chains and Drags her feet in the...
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Posts by By Nicole Guenther
3 posts by this author
She's not the type that jumps off swings
But clings to the rusty chains and
Drags her feet in the wood chips to stop,
Squealing when I tease her by
Twisting close on my swing
I watch her dismount and
...
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There might be no Neverland,
No heaven, no after.
Only cold Earth.
There might be nothing—
Yet isn't that something?
So pretend today will last forever.
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I step out into the clouded dusk
the dark light pushes up
against my skin
the steady contribution
of frog song
pours into the air,
making the measuring cup
of the night
overflow.
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