Member Poem

Silver wings brush by the neatly braided coiffure
succulent to the naked eyes
touch me – gently, pain infrequent a
close friend.
These legs hold no soul but a stump
like a dying tree whose berth rots,
thirsty for new life, voids of memories
that come and go like moon beams on a
cloudless summer night.
Lyrics escape my mouth, no sound can be
heard, how can I make you understand as we
cross beyond the yellow line, small shops
come to view, days when mamma took us
for our Sunday treat of kielbasa and a new
babushka for grandma...
I want to forget but you won’t let me.
Dreams of childhood scattered in the wind
faintly caressing my aching heart…hold my
tiny hands and we will walk into the empty
streets of our past, what was left of our childhood.
Now you are gone and still, I am trapped in a relic
of shame wanting to be young again, to grow wings
and nestle in the old awnings on Delancey.