On a swing. By myself because
The cousin has gone inside
For some reason. She is my only
Relative who is my age that
I know about and I trust her
Because she knows about grass
And going barefoot. I point my toes
To go up on the swing. Lean back
She showed me this. And then I carefully
Jump off… a skill I just learned.
I have never seen night come in over
Houses, til now. The grass grows cold
Under my feet and there are the sounds of
Other children playing in other yards.
A star, two stars. Then the older cousin
— The mother of the one I was just talking about —
Calls me.
I linger and wonder what it would be like to
Play outside all the time and to never wear
Shoes to see time pass in the sky
And to have neighbors
so that I can be by myself
But at the same time
Be accompanied.
Stephanie Barbé Hammer is a five-time Pushcart Prize nominee in fiction, nonfiction and poetry. She has published short stories, poems and lyric essays in the Bellevue Literary Review, GRAVEL, Birds We Piled Loosely, Pearl, and the Hayden’s Ferry Review among other places. She is the author of the magical realist novel, The Puppet Turners of Narrow Interior (Urban Farmhouse Press), the prose poem chapbook Sex with Buildings (Dancing Girl Press), the poetry collection How Formal? (Spout Hill Press) and most recently, a how-to-write magical realism manual, Delicious Strangeness (Spout Hill Press). Originally from Manhattan, Stephanie now lives on Whidbey Island, where she walks amongst the trees, looking for a dry cleaner, a taco truck and someone talk to. She is working on a new poetry collection/audio project entitled CITY SLICKER as well as a novella about two confused young people searching for a missing senior citizen aboard a luxury train bound for Quebec. She iis currently serving as managing editor for SHARK REEF.
All work by Stephanie Barbé Hammer
