← v21n2, Fall 2022
Poetry · Volume 21, Number 2

Swing

A metal frame, each side an A,

and a firm board, with a green bed

it holds, to hold you as you move.

A simulacrum of the breeze

that lifts live-oak limbs, myrtle boughs

outside the screen, around your ears,

a garland made of wind and green

you wear. You rest, suspended, ease

know you can’t stay the night, but slip

a minute into sweeter sleep.