Why Can’t I Let You Go?
by Anni Johnson
Buckled in, sitting with the voice of reason,
silence stifles course sounds on the asphalt –
last year’s ways and means; us just being.
The corner is the limit; a place on the edge
where hushed regimes of disavowal break.
And suddenly, darling said, Did you see that? Driving,
he looked away… while I, lost in the blur,
betrayed by loco-motion,
barely caught the boy in hoodie.
Anyone would ask the same today, as if an auspicious child,
clad in red, flying a dime store kit, might be an extinct animal
out there in silver bromide landscape: a Minor White –
Two Barns and Shadow: a cloddy, forgotten, Appalachian farm.
Was it the March wind rattling windows that woke him to such dreams?
Blazing freedom tenaciously, I joined the boy in image:
alone, so sad, tiny hands letting out the line of a fighter
in gusty winds. Dreamy valor at play.
Blissful Union electrifying world with co-created flight:
aerial ballet – he, his kite, and aberrant thoughts in gleaner’s field.
How did he, so small, untether self from hovering nanny-state?
Last Child? An action-gift? Small wonder, knocking
at heaven’s door? High aspiration – an elevated mind vision?
Game brain in uncanny valley of imperfect play serves
where mothers once raged… and motioned toward the door.
Freedom vector conveys the Victor; a residual image thrown off.
Were you real in Green Time?
Or just an odd man out?
Or maybe a gypsy scale
to paint my own name
in color-morph form?
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