Three Bars of Summer 2018
Hard brown coating constrains
the running of cold white cream.
I study the brown rectangle.
choose a corner; bite.
Like a skater falling
through an iced lake,
the hardness breaks apart;
my hand catches melting chocolate pieces.
Oh- the ritual of an ice cream bar
Hard metal-like scaffolding,
baking in the sun.
I run towards it.
Carefully I grab the hot rounded iron
and perform skin the cat
on the monkey bars.
The days so hot, so dry,
I lick dust when I lick my lips.
We have walked so long; now stand longer.
So close, I take an extra gulp of water.
Large hands reach out, grab me, pull me away.
I scream, “Mama!”
I am in a cold hard room; we are all so scared.
We stare out
through these strange new bars.