The following submission appeared in “We Are Newton: A Neighbourhood Anthology.” See here for more information about the project.
By: Barbara Sarahan
Slippery wet but cold tiles.
A shriving smiling girl whirls into
the fast curve of the slide.
A piercing scream echoes, my skin crawls
A spinning basketball stood still in the sweaty air for a short second.
Runner’s rubber squeak as they slide across the glossy gym floor.
Stand in the lengthy lineup to board a bus in the soft warm rain.
Don’t dare look at each other; breathe a single word.
Stock the fruit stands across the street with cherries, blueberries and blackberries, from the nearby flats.
I long for those fields that disappeared many years ago.