Playground Dust

Tucker's Grove 1

Playground Dust

Playground dust
knows more sorrow,
more unspoken agony
than a myriad of places
that don’t feign merry fun.

Numberless victims
water the sand, fragments
of their ego scattered at the feet
of the victor, whose strut is only offset
by a silent
remorseful speck
of pity,
quickly squashed.

Teens congregate on swings
after school
wondering where their
lust for play has gone,
they remain, listlessly existing,
revisiting past joy,
witnessing childhoods’ avid glee.

Lover’s tryst,
they can’t go to her house,
they can’t go to his,
so they grope in the car
unsatisfied and
guilty.

Father’s visit,
every other weekend,
he doesn’t understand his kids
and likely never will.
So they come here and
the children romp,
false hilarity making them loud,
while inside they feel
confused and sad.

Nowhere to go,
huddled against the night,
bench less uncomfortable
than the chilly ground.
The craving never ends,
will never end,
until he is no more.
He prays for a fix
or for death.

Playground dust
knows more sorrow,
more unspoken agony
than a myriad of places
that don’t feign merry fun.

Tucker's Grove 2

April 2, 2015, Poetic Asides April Poem-a-day Challenge

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Playground Dust

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s