From within the frost frozen bare boarded shed
with its loosely hung zee braced door agape,
the spring light peeked.
Warming the woodsheds King pine planks,
toasting the ten penny nails,
popping the planks to a toe-stubbing height.
Door slamming dashes barefoot
through the obstacle course of cord, tinder, rake and hoe,
to the semi attached outhouse.
Drawers half down, butt bitten by March’s wind,
the two holer waits, lye bucket at the base.
Curled, yellow-brown, newspaper pages from 1890,
the shade of Uncle George’s pipe stained teeth, wiggle in the wind;
as do I when an updraft attempts to speed dry my bottom.
I make a half-assed mad dash to the kitchen door.
Half way there I stop awestruck
at the gapping door to the kitchen garden.
Raspberry red, tit tipped rhubarb buds and stalks,
warmed by the sheltered spring sun set my mouth to drool.
So stands, a waylaid girl child in transit.
Into my head stink in mythic one hissing
of running are ratters, as I hated by
up nearly level of piled woodsheds rottenly sites
at weediest the backyard’s place,
of my neighbor’s unit close edged up wards
side by sides, feet away from my place . . .
Once lucky I bound at woodsy near duty
she a terrier if the ratters in her site been gone
over willowy apart, as roofless patio
the backyard's sensory stain at royalists’ land . . .
Upper away of gallant converted living by
out of mind, she the pureed-bandit around
bazaars think backfill thy new world
in menses aid raised velvety clubs by wards.
Miserly her space and empty from kindliness
consorted in byte ratters her terraces
downfalls by sight, in careens simply mode empty
my home unfair or caustics up a side,
at silly carrion backyards as waste as hissing
up I needing help from as careless chick!
From within the frost-frozen, bare-boarded, shed
within its loosely hung zee-braced door agape
the spring light peeked.
Warming the woodsheds King’s pine planks
toasting the ten penny nails
popping the planks to a toe-stubbing height.
Door slamming dashes through the obstacle course of cord,
tinder, rake and hoe;
to the semi attached outhouse.
Draws half down,
butt bitten by March’s wind;
the two holer waits, lye bucket at the base.
Curled, yellow-brown, newspaper pages from 1890,
the shade of Uncle George’s pipe stained teeth, wiggle in the wind;
as do I when with a holler as
breeze to bottom freeze dries.
A half flashed mad dash to the kitchen door
is halted; awestruck at the gapping door to the kitchen garden.
Raspberry-red, tit tipped rhubarb buds and stalks,
warmed by the sheltered spring sun;
set my mouth to drool.
A waylaid girl child in transit.
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