Daniels Lane

Take me to the yard, then to the thunder,
lay my legs around the bending grass,
the flower lawns, hold my hair above the,
swamp of my childhood pool, blue so black –

Let the water plummet to the ground
carrying and holding my skin together
into salty air plumes, mines made for foggy,
bitter dandelion swallows, or red birds –

Show me a sign you’re still here, please!
under some overgrown hedge, or reaching
over the privett, with a door so mangled
it cries with every gust of wild wind, please –

Bring me to the battled path, the tick cove
of blooded ankles, of weathered wood that is
ready to show what has splintered over seasons,
the quiet elegy to all my restless hollow –

-please, help me find the forever, left lost
on Daniels Lane

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Carolina Casabal is a poet and writer based in New York City. She holds an MFA in Poetry from Columbia University. Her work has appeared in Conduit, Ghost City Press, Small Orange Journal, and Cordella Magazine. carolinacasabal.com