Garrison Creek mourns
memories of bare feet slicing time
swinging on a hemp rope
worn smooth by childhood
then falling
falling into cool laughter
The tree’s gnarled trunk’s twisted veins
swelling in the heat groaned
beside our weightless joy
We feasted on wild blackberries,
staining our lips for a pubescent kiss
While my brothers built a fire boiling water
for craw-daddies under the bridge
and swilled pirated beer against
mid-day’s sweat
Their old Lucky Lager beer cans
are buried under the mud, as well as
RC Cola and Nesbitt Orange bottles
sipped during late night summer trysts
remembered in my sister’s key-locked diaries
Secrets of her round script are lost
in stars that hold them
Along with the innocence within the lofty loops
that left so much space for romance closed
in life’s unfolding
She fought until death against matter
that pressed her between the pages
Sighed one final breath at the close of summer
Before floating down the creek
on an overjoyed inner-tube, free




L.G. Figgins © 2009