Necessity
by Bruce Meyer
Necessity says I must be careful
as I stand in the tangle of weeds
to place my feet on solid ground
and not on a broken window pane
Necessity says I must be careful
as I stand in the tangle of weeds
to place my feet on solid ground
and not on a broken window pane
So we’re mostly back where we were, including me and my family. My backyard is on the water, though, and Utopia still sits there on the far shore.
Perfectly smoothed stones dotted the outline of a path into the yard. They were obviously from somewhere beyond the forest.
Some people say Dudleytown was founded by a man fleeing England who carried a curse with him on the boat to America.
In the end, it all comes down to one of our world’s most abused and vanishing resources: privacy.
Everything is leaf, he said,
being Goethe;
but being Goethe, the words he said
came out quite different:
“Did you come for something something?” It sounds Asian to my tin ear: sow-jow? “São João! The festa de São João do Porto,” says Avó, a celebration of summer solstice and São João’s feast day. Saint John the Baptist to us.
“Harry Bennet lived here
before the toy store;
now he’s over there,” Dad said,
thumbing toward the graveyard.
“We’re getting murdered, Dad. We are getting so-oo murdered.” Fifteen minutes earlier my two girls had left the house, heavily armed, on what I took to be a routine search and destroy mission.
If I had to choose a refrain to best describe the last six months, it would sound like this: I’m a terrible mother.