from Knocking on the Earth
Past the basketball ring that sticks its face,
lonely, into the harsh light,
I walk quickly over the loud cement,
put my hand on the cold flank of a boxcar,
and as I step off into the deepest field
the grass puts on dark gloves to touch me.
A car throbs down the street and is gone,
one red light blinking.
I am alone. The odor of dark is all around me.
The cicadas are shrilling: their throats are lined with water.
It is almost November, and I am twenty;
I swim toward this loneliness with both arms open.
© Ellery Akers