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| Where
Hortense Jenkins Used to Live |
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Walk up to it and leave all of this other behind.
Do you feel that something at our backs? But just turn
And it's gone or seared into the walls of the oldest
House in town. Grandma Long's. I wonder where the old lady
Lives now. But really, I know all I need to know. The stone
Tells us that. The dates, too close together, the few leaves
Tumbling. Nothing much else here. A scar where a house stood,
A thin whistle where some woman yelled at some man,
Or to herself for years, before and after us. We flew our kites
And thought they'd carry us away to, say, Columbus,
To see Bob Dylan in a blue suit. If they did, I can't recall.
And the desired effect, though it came in spades,
Came more for some. There must be a sound
You're supposed to make at nothing. Ah, let's go.
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