Last night at home It is my last night here I’m awake not wanting to go to sleep not wanting to go tomorrow I write a poem instead
On high I remember me flying in the air Ty’s feet on my belly me balancing steadying my arms out to the side my large wingspan like a great blue heron I begin to lose my balance grab his strong hands that is what my six year old self remembers
Saturday June 17
The moving truck I hear the high pitched squeak of brakes from the moving truck I already said my good byes to Ceci She’s left for Flint to stay with her Grandma I need to give Aunt Birdie my goodbye hug She’s gone back to her house to get something for me but I can’t wait I follow her across the alley between our houses stones crunching beneath my feet like quicksand pulling me back I jump over a puddle and reach the gate remember the tag games that my middle brother Jerome and I played before he started acting all teenage like I look toward the alley grass growing between the two tire paths black eyed Susan dandelions and Queen Anne’s Lace Aunt Birdie’s skirt flies up the flower patterns waving like a sailboat caught in the wind I hug hard burying my head on her shoulder I look up and she smiles with the same laugh lines Mama has You go now you’re my brave girl I’ll see you soon
