Monday, June 17, 2013

The Golden Field

Summer is upon us!  And writing poems with two kids home transitioning from school year life to summer life is no easy task!  But, they went to camp this morning so I after launching my online class I settled into the prompt for the week and tried to write.  This week we were to write off of Sappho's fragments.  I choose fragments from fragment 42: their heart grew cold / they let their wings down.  Here is my draft:

The Golden Field

In the city constructed of golden-pelted hills the boys
ran like comets. When they let their wings down
they became all muscles and golden flesh.
But, in this wind’s breath, in this pulsing air
their hearts grew cold as their bodies rose.

The field was filled with un-harvested things:
straw, arthritic, thick-knuckled trees and hope.
Shadows stretched and time lulled thick and sleepy.
Until the boys slowed, gathered back their dirty
wings.  When I left they were crouched in the shade
beneath the last apple tree mending what
was left of their wings with silver duct tape. 
They barely looked up from their work but
fear crowned the air around them like glorious contrails.

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