Original poems & found images.
–by Mia Sara
Weekend at El Cap with Fifth Graders
Here we watch the kids go mock wild;
my wits all run to seed, and scatter,
more itchy weeds for the cracked riverbed.
We all lose track of our child
in the cold, after dark, when it matters,
half-tanked at the fire pit, our heads
tight in the shrink-wrapped void of time.
My wits, in ashes, ashes. At El Cap.
I used to hold her in my lap,
this fierce and final child of mine. Continue reading