LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
Poetry |
by Hiram Larew |
THE SHOW One of these days I hope that instead of waiting Like I always do I will head straight into your eyes where There are pieces of everything I have ever wanted Where there are people I have never met before but trust Just the same Where there are tables for as far As I can see You make me see double. I also hope for the kind of future That I can take for granted One with ladders that reach the apples in your hair A future when all of your hearts ask me I never prepared for you. If this is the start If this is what tempts us by glancing away If this is where we hope to build Then I am as scared as any acorn As honest as stones over water As ready as glue. The Show was previously published in Fodderwing and The Great Lawn. TWO KINDS OF PURPLE Whatever happens in the end Wont make any difference Except for one thing And the best way that I can describe Whats so important Is to ask you to look out your apartment window At the magnolia below Because for only an instant While Im nearby It comes as close as anything To what could be If we started Maybe I should have just leaned against the wall And said nothing Maybe I should have walked and walked for answers Maybe I should have never looked up But I did I can bring by all the tomatoes in the world And make sure that they look like late summer In a bag or a dream I can do that What I still need help with though Is the space between clouds I need the kind of help that can only come from a wink The kind of help that has hair thats short and black And ageless. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 8, No. 12, August 28, 1998. |