I’m standing there, looking
at my old grade school’s set
of monkey bars. I can touch them
with my forehead. I almost do,
hoping to go back.
But I start to sink,
alternating legs, by inches as
I walk. I run and still sink,
feeling more than hearing
the laughter of the child,
grown giant underground,
grabbing hand-over-hand
at my moving feet. I reach
the sidewalk slogging mid-thigh
through earth, and lose both shoes
as I pull myself out.
Once should have been enough.
Mark Henderson is an associate professor of English at Tuskegee University. He earned his Ph. D. at Auburn University with concentrations in American literature and psychoanalytic theory. He has poems published or forthcoming in Cozy Cat Press, From Whispers to Roars, Defenestrationism.net, Bombfire, Former People, Neologism, Broad River Review, Rune Bear, Flora Fiction, Flare, and Visitant. He was born and raised in Monroe, Louisiana, and currently resides in Auburn, Alabama.
