Streets dream the many childhoods left

By sandaled grimy feet, the pebble tossed,

Dark wonders pried from the cleft

Of concrete, the games of voices lost.

 

Houses and faces save only their age:

Fences tumble, roofs leak, words are growth

Of grass, pile of detritus, discarded rage

Or ache, omens of memory’s creeping sloth.

 

Strange town, do not deny me the home I seek,

Let no blank stare meet me at the next turn,

Nor rainy dusk, nor burning sun forget my meek

Name unuttered by the stones. Do not spurn

 

My words dreaming streets, the hoard I keep 

Of names and faces saved from sleep.

​

(1986)

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