What is it about windblown
that we find so enticingly romantic
The public library lawn is dense
with bodies, reading, sprawling, naked
There is sun, once more returned
and we, creatures of the north, rejoice
A dog large enough to be a hairy horse
shakes under the sprinkler rain
Children of it-doesn't-matter-whom shriek
wild with water, with grass underfoot
I can feel each blade imprinting my belly
in the flagrant space where my shirt rumpled up
A man I have met once before appears
stepping closer into my nearsight with hello
He works for the radio I learn
and immediately all I can hear is the voice
As if tuning in from some other place
the children and sprinkler and wind as static
copyright 2016, Sarah Hirsch.
A blog of mostly poems, some prose. Recent works will be added to the top, and older pieces are backdated. Please write me a note if you have any questions, etc!
All works are original and copyright Sarah Hirsch, 2017. Please contact me directly if you would like permission to use any images or words. Thank you!
Follow me on instagram to see paintings going up in real time: www.instagram.com/sarahghirsch