OverTheRainbow

vermont is a half-finished poem with all the lines scratched out.

grandfathers who’ve lived here their whole lives still talk of leaving,

it is november now which is unbelievable

because last night we got blisters on our feet running

house to house in too-small rainboots, our wings

flapping lopsidedly behind us. it rained on and off

it is Halloween morning

and pouring rain.

wake up & look out the window -

you were always a constant to me.

there was a book in the back of our classroom

tucked between crates of other, more important tomes

it had a picture of you on the cover and i read it almost every day

The West Wind is a banker in a smart navy suit and a tie. His dress shoes clack on the pavement; he’s got someplace to be, always someplace to be, rushing to the sidewalk, the subway, the elevator, checking his gold Rolex watch.

is more of a creek,

covered in yellow leaves and rotting branches 

that staunch the flow like a bandage over blood.

The river in the woods

probably used to rush

like its brothers farther north, shrieking