Monday, November 25, 2013

One Eye Open (Poem 237)

We never wore shoes
in the summertime, or
hardly ever, 
anyway. We ran wild,
clambered through creeks
and the dusty eaves
of each others' houses,
hacked through brambles
and roamed across town
in search of a friend,
or a swim, or a perfect,
ripe peach whose honey-
sweet juice would gush
like love over our chins
and hands. And all 
the time, we were barefoot,
keeping one eye open
for glass shards glinting
in the hard sun, and 
the other open for glimpses
of the women we would become.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

El Camino Real, Burlingame, CA
Photo: Wikipedia Commons

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