TRYING AGAIN TO PIN DOWN THE BEGINNING
Day after day I keep thinking: this
could be the first day of summer.
And then, recalibrating,
as if one could wave words
and begin again. As if it really matters.
Lawnmowers buzz and little sisters
cartwheel on new grass,
yellow shirt, black shorts changing places
again and again like a Jacob’s ladder
rearranging its squares
without going anywhere.
Without needing to. Where am I trying
to land? Every time their hands
or feet reach up
they look like stems of light
and down the street in the wash
of heat, three men stand in the mingled
shades of geometry and maples
pouring concrete around a manhole,
smoothing what wobbles until it settles
its way to stone. The street’s mouth is open.
Even the underworld is drinking sun today.
Kelly Terwilliger's work has appeared in journals such as the Comstock Review, Prairie Schooner, South Carolina Review, Hubbub, and Cider Press Review. Her chapbook, A Glimpse of Oranges, was published by Finishing Line Press, and a full-length collection of her poems is forthcoming in 2017 with Airlie Press. She works as a storyteller in public schools.