A Chime, a Chant, a Chain
by Kierra Fields
Sunlight spills through spiny crooks
In decaying batten wood.
Dandelions sprout through
Dead shed floorboards.
There, a sooty window, a saffron ray;
Waning, stretching thin.
Something that way shimmers,
Shines. A signal
—The seven letter word
I know you by
Defined, repeated, then
Strewn along a spectrum. Bend the beam
to draw your moth mouth somewhere sweet.
The signal sent.
A promise made.
Meep Meep. Meet Meet. Me Me.
There, there, Now, now, You know where.
Nobody has heard from this home so long,
So far across the years no whistle could reach.
Where sound shuns the landscapes do
melt and blend. Whirling goes the colors of your childhood
Crawl space, my free range, the patio furniture, the peeling paint,
the vegetable garden, your scraped and scabby knees—
Tucked in vivid hiding places, which
When the wind kisses it ripples all our brightest bits
That spark and flare like specks of glass
In the dirt, coruscating in the sun.