In this poem, I pay homage to the place I come from, the place that continuously inspires me, and to the things that remind me of home.What reminds you of home?
How to Get to Know a Place
to the left there are fields,
copper, silver, gold, tarnished,
every color of life and decay,
and crumbling wooden barns,
abandoned brick foundations,
orphaned chimneys, everywhere
paint peeling; tell me your color stories
and i’ll sing you goodnight
i breathe his skin at midnight,
how many other heals have tread this grass before?
four thousand hands have held
books, bombs, body parts
in the back seats of breaking-down chevys,
or underneath maple leaves, always falling,
on these steps, near this
monument where high school boys
impress girls with trembling bodies?
the american revolution came through here,
there is history in the grass
blades, and if you listen
in the quiet
there’s a cacophony
of birds, fleeing,
metal giants in the corn fields,
focus on the tepid breeze,
reeds dancing, pond ripples
reflecting the secrets
found in the dark parts of the sickle moon.
smoke swirling around crackled banisters,
ashing into empty soup cans,
lighters competing with revolutionary stars;
and how many mason jars could
you fill with running mascara tears
fallen from sour hearts,
marbles lost and money won?
eventually you must let
the stuff go, the letters, the post cards
receipts, gardening shears,
honey coating cups of tea,
half a glass of wine.
eventually the flood lamps drown,
the moon rises and the sun swallows cotton clouds,
each home full of sleeping children,
percolating coffee and half-eaten bowls of cheerios
freckling a relief map
of a small upstate town.