Child-ish

By Samuel S Smart

The mirage has grown tired, it’s forgotten how to be
before the marbles in orbit, before the fern pulling

memories smear the flickering mind
I want to see the wind as it is—I want to

smell the birth of a raindrop—bashful love
sounds of village on the hill—city deserts

dad leaves in a gray plastic dustpan—empty
guitar stand—wild child drugged through silence

the splash, now hush-hush ripples—concentric 
circles yank us apart—the smell of chlorine clean 

in the pool-blue sky—bloodshot eyes burn—
those never-ending days, still—wait to sleep.

Samuel spent the better part of eight years living in eastern Europe, Central/South America, and Africa where he held various positions in journalism, tourism, and education.  Currently residing in Tebbetts, Missouri, Samuel works remotely, full time—until further notice.