Walk Twelve - SPAN OF SKY
The sky has cracked itself open
above Schuylkill;
the river that reflects the sky’s essence
back to it
The sun shoots down
from the span of blue, white,
and glints of orange
that holds it up,
spilling over the river’s moving body
In the river, buildings live
The meandering mirror
holds images of tall complexes
made of glass
The brightness of a glaring red
FMC sign
shivers over the water
Above this relationship,
birds move swiftly in groups
through the span of sky
A fallen couple laughs on their backs
while their dogs hover over them,
kiss them, and slob over them
They laugh as he lies on her body
Through their thick coats,
they can’t feel the wiggling grass
tickling their backs
This December day is warm enough
to turn up a smile on my face
My fears seep into the river
as I move away from it,
leaving the benches
where a stranger in headphones
sat a few feet away from me
There’s just a few berries left on a slim tree
before it’s completely empty
Then, we can see its vulnerable beauty;
no cover-up, no pretty distractions
no technique, just authenticity
Every time I see a berry tree,
I think of my best friend, Josephine
Above the community garden
that rests, locked away,
on the other side of the bridge
which connects the trail to the dog park,
a crescent moon’s light slowly saturates,
though it’s fainted by the light of day,
for now
It looks like A Pillow In The Sky
Like the piano song by Ann Sweeten
This is what the song would look like
if it had an appearance:
a faint crescent moon coming to,
the more the afternoon fades away
Dashing by the left side of my face,
a freight train lugs oil
through the tracks beside the river
The black rail cars are snatched
by the end of day
to make it somewhere
The boldness of their chic black cars
bolt into a future
as I take my time and walk
Beside my feet,
someone’s poodle, in a soft pink sweater,
moves after the train
while the woman and her friend
keep her safe by keeping
a good grip on her leash
She walks with enthusiasm
Her careless joyful nature
reminds me to be excited,
though the state of the world
is not exciting
“If I knew that tomorrow
was the end of the world,
I would plant an apple tree today!”
Like bodies in different colors of silk,
connecting by hands, in a joint dance,
a big mural of trapezoids and other shapes
joint by the force of white lines
dances in front of my face,
above the trail
Turquoise,
emerald,
yellow,
purple,
and magenta
is scattered through the image
Each of these colors represent
a dress in this dance number
The stage lighting is a cool white
that resembles the glare of the sky’s
language with the river
The dancers are drank up by the lighting
All of their skin tones are heavily kissed
Their dresses flow—OUR dresses flow—
WE make the stage a place to play
The audience is our river
When I reach the end of the trail,
I pause at the railing
before making my U-turn
to cross the bridge
I pass a bench where a person reclines
and smokes his blunt,
watching the moving cars set sail
I peer out at the falling sun
Its cadence pulls this part of the world
downward into early night