Skip to main content

Back Home in the Shopping Center


ISSUE:  Autumn 1984

I found the corner where children ride
the worn plastic horse leaping on its post,
tail flying, saddle horn dark from sweat,
leather reins jingling with chrome—but now so
still, so still it made me lonely
for a quarter, for a body small enough
to clamber into the gum-studded saddle
tooled with roses, to kick the red spur
so the pony rolls and champs its bit,
runs away, Muzak whinnying,
other mothers turning to see
who squalls from that wobbling beast
blasting for the sage. Oh centuries,
you are so little for human joy.

0 Comments

By submitting this form, you accept the Mollom privacy policy.

Recommended Reading