Come morning the corner bodega was dead
no one enters streetside or slides out the backdoor

A block north the subway rattles to a stop
leaving two standing on a wide green platform

One carrying lavender tripping on a frayed patchwork dress
And an old woman clutching a white handkerchief to her lips

Slowly descending metal stairs chapped hands clutching together tightly
it was a thin voice that broke the morning silence

I’m scared

Hush child

They moved as one body adding odd angles
so one could not discern a shadow within their human lens

Plodding past derelict entrances with faint remains of grease and onions
they kept their bodies folded forward eyes tracing worn curbs

Coming round the corner it was the ghost remains that reminds
even the youngest mind that something went awry that morn

A broken swing left swaying to its own rusted song
a foreign melody normally not heard on a Wednesday


One thought on “School Yard

  1. Fascinating, I am intrigued to where this would be going, its very visceral but then again all too common these days over your side of the pond…

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