Monday, July 4, 2011

July 4, 2011

In search for themes, I find myself going back to childhood days in Ohio. The wonder of summer and the tallness of corn (even though at the time, I never thought much about it). Living in a city now and going back to my roots, we drive along 2-lane roads where either side is corn taller than the car and as far as you can see. This poem is a memory I have of going to bed in summer, when the night has not quite taken over. The quiet of the evening broken by katydids, crickets, etc. But also the comfort in hearing them through the open windows.


Katie did.

Katie didn’t.

Katy did.

The argument went on and on

night after night.

All summer.

Every evening began

a new round in the debate.

Katie did.

Katie didn’t.

Katy did.

We lay in our beds

light still holding onto the sky

dark silhouette of pines

looming outside the windows.

Katie didn’t.

Sometimes there was a pause

as if new evidence in Katie’s case

had come to light for review

all sides taking it into consideration.

Katie did.

Katie didn’t.

The disagreement continued.

It continued as the sky relaxed

and fell into darkness,

became louder as Big Bear appeared,

took his position on the matter.

Katie did.

as the archer raised his bow

concurring with the crowd.

Katie didn’t

and neither did we.

We tried to stay awake long enough

to hear the outcome of her fate,

eyes weighted by the rocking rhythm

Katie did …. Katie didn’t ….

we surrendered to nocturnal journeys

far from Katie and her advocates.

Our reveries were interrupted only

by the creep of morning and the question

of the doves “who, hoo, who?”

No one answered them,

but we always knew in our hearts

that it was never Katie.

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