Elegy for a Childhood

Poem from a Creative Writing class I was in. Got decent feedback from professor and classmates.

Crisp leaves whisper

shushes

at the whimpering sky.

And a warm wind presses against my

limbs.

The sun, sinking, still erupts

brilliantly

in all its splendor.

Trees, each a demoralizing

space

from the other, wait.

 

The melancholy distance of it all reminds me

there was a time when the world was closer, condensed, pushed

in like a gaggle of weary travelers about a fire.

I recall

carnivals and festivals when each person breathed another’s breath.

There was a sweetness in the intimacy, and stars, yellow, revolved above us all,

happy that we were happy.

Even the

trees

vibrated with a curious joy.

Their benevolent arms spread gently around us,

and I knew, then, that I was safe.

There were more people then, too.

Soft coats and hot, fleshy hands tickled the heart, the soul,

and each man and woman and child was at once sleepily alone and also

wonderfully nuzzled against the others.

 

Now,

I see only distances.

Distances,

distances.

And the shrieking pink flotsam of the sunset wails

unheard.

 

Trees--

Magical, once.

But of course you knew this would come, didn’t you?--

stand indifferent in their eternal vigil.

 

I want to pound

the trees, to hit them and flog them with my fists

for their knowledge.

“Could you not tell us?” I would cry,

weeping into the scabrous

trunk.

A policeman would find me, I think,

picking at the dirt beneath the tree

with my fingers, now-dead tear-tracks like too-large veins across

my face.

He would probably lift his cap

to rub his forehead

with the back of his thumb,

and stand there, confused.

 

But I do not

approach

the trees.

 

Trees.

 

Together, we watch the sky fizzle out,

the leaves shushing and shushing it

all the way.

Author's Note

3rd draft, but first two copies were evaluated in-class. This is after a 3rd, personal revision. Looking for ANY feedback, but specifically comments on structure, word-choice/phrasing, and the title.