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The Cold Swing


 

The Cold Swing

 

 

Swinging on a cold swing

the moon an icy cuticle

through bare branches

the cold air night

a rebirth of blemish-free childhood

sky so clear

like long ago Illinois nights

cold cutting

the moon a sickle sweeping

striking ears cheeks limbs

but honest--

you could drive for miles and miles

through frigid rows of faceless cornstalks

it was somehow simpler there then

every immediate challenge immediate

a whitewashed cross of hardwood

hurdled easily

without strain

legs still yearning

for the next soaring flight--

and now

now straining muscles fail against bulging burdens

discontentment

fog and clouds the normal color of New York skies

except for this Moment:

the moon hanging crystal clear

the muscles babyborn new

dark cornfields surround you again

and you soar

swinging on a cold swing.   

 

Mitchell Waldman


Mitchell Waldman's fiction, poetry, and essays have appeared in numerous publications, including  Ariel Chart, Fictive Dream, The Waterhouse Review, Crack the Spine, The Houston Literary Review, The Faircloth Review, Epiphany, Wilderness House Literary Magazine, The Battered Suitcase, and many other magazines and anthologies. He is also the  author of the novel, A Face in the Moon, and the story collection, Petty Offenses and Crimes of the Heart, and serves as Fiction Editor for Blue Lake Review. A new story collection is due out from Mitchell in 2021. (For more info, see his website at http://mitchwaldman.homestead.com). 


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3 Comments

  1. Truly captures many moods at-once, or the reader could isolate one and ruminate on it for a while. To me, that's the mark of a very fine work of art.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Truly captures many moods at-once, or the reader could isolate one and ruminate on it for a while. To me, that's the mark of a very fine work of art.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Nice work. My two favorite lines: "the moon an icy cuticle" and "a rebirth of blemish-free childhood."

    ReplyDelete