Tim J Brennan
elegy (for Michele 1972
in the northeast corner
of the city, near the railroad
tracks, a simple kick
of an empty coffee can
rang out in my darkness,
daring someone to find mesometimes we sat in dirt
drawing tomorrow, rarely
speaking of yesterday’s
skinned knee. or potatoesi was in love with the blonde
often we dangled legs
from the train overpass,
passing engines iron dragons
smoking of diesel, acrid
in our noses. it was enoughwe walked split rails, held hands
defied gravity with balance
kissed only once in thick
shadows of dry elm treesdutch elm took the trees
as quickly as junior high
lunch periods. as Michelewhat calling of my childhood
dares to raise its voice
to the grave of a single leaf?
