Trapped Between Two Skies
on this hot wooden dock
with a chorus of cicadas and assorted others
sizzling in the distance. slow wheels crunching gravel
as a car crawls across the dam toward town
tang of rust on the dock ladder
how much more you loved me the first time
you showed me this place
this plane of rippling glass
reflecting everything like I could tilt off balance
and fall into clouds and sky.
the rustling, fractaled spheres of leaves
as if the branches hold green butterflies
resting on the edge of flight.
holding thin hope
I might catch my breath,
and step off these sun-baked boards
to splash through the sky
as evening falls
memories spilling out behind me
scattered like the cherokee corn meal stars
Erik Richardson lives in Milwaukee with his family and assorted pets. In addition to his role as Development Manager at the United Performing Arts Fund, he also teaches a few courses at Carroll University. With a handful of awards and honorable mentions scattered about, his second chapbook, song of ourself, is coming out from Aldrich Press in late spring.