Posted in Poetry

vickers road

jagged vines
white siding
two black doors with single
diamond windows
rocking on hinges
splayed open
into hallways
windows fallen
to ground
splintered wooden steps
rusted over railings
no more mown grass
or laundry on clothes wire
golden daffodil garden gone
green for sale sign leering
from the screened-in porch

my father says i cannot
move into the unoccupied house next door
though his mother
my grandmother
lived there
and his childhood and mine are there
it is not as safe as it once was
when i walked down to hanlon park
and I only had trouble
with cars not letting me cross
but baltimore is baltimore
it will only hurt you if you let it

i don’t want to write this poem

a police badge leers from living
room windows
i am only visiting
i can only visit
peeking in a five year old
me with a crooked smile
smiles from the mantle
my father doesn’t trust me
enough to open the door
trust inhabitants of nearby homes
on vickers road
when all i want is strawberry
candies, steel-cut oatmeal, mashed
to watch the summer olympics
in a sleep number bed
and gaudy jewelry from the fifties

i am too old
to play pretend
reimagine my childhood
it won’t be the same
i know
but it is wanted



Poet, Writer, Editor

One thought on “vickers road

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