Cowboys and Indians
Primal worlds collide with urban concrete
on Saturdays in summer.
Mothers elicit treaties from savages,
while feeding civilized beings.
Running through the forest
can be a Wednesday in Detroit, or
a backyard during Christmas
Trees becomes igloos, and
Animals rule the wild, yet are tamed on command.
Boundaries are endless, yet are confined
to the surroundings of 5257 Haden St.
This is the third version of this calisthenics, and the only thing that remains from the original version is Urban concrete and primal worlds. I'm still tinkering with this poem, but I think there are a few things that I like here. I think the next draft, I will start to play with the language to make it more interesting.
On the concrete summer, Saturday turned
ReplyDeleteprimal. Our mothers called to us from the ramparts, entreating the savages
with juice boxes and scoldings.
On any Wednesday in Detroit or yard
where used Christmas trees dried to tinder,
the neighborhood tabby known as The Admiral
hissed through his species and our ignorance.
Just playing with your language, trying to flesh it out (which is shorthand for replacing abstractions with concrete nouns, establishing a sense of place). I could imagine this one working more toward some real or imagined childhood experience involving play outside.