Silver Needle Dream
Last night Henry Clay Street warped
the triplex we lived in
a one eyed new facade.
I pushed a stroller down the pavement.
I and my sister cried watching from the
old windows
as our mother went to work.
But by afternoon we hit the street,
running off in opposite directions.
I learned to ride a 2 wheel bike here,
the side walk not so heaved by root
tripping up the stroller wheels.
Many fevers in that house,
my mother sponging my limp body down;
was it measles or chicken pox?
One night the doctor came
with one long silver needle
for my bum.
Pneumonia
the croup machine
the tent;
it all went down in that upstairs room
with the recurring dream of fire.
Who was this child I pushed before me?
I never looked
it made no sound.
1/3 – 1/15/14
mhn
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