Today's poem is by Connie Post

The Wandering
       

The names on the street signs
fade
the words blend together
like children in a small hut

the lines in the road
fall beneath the asphalt

you walk around
looking for a familiar turn
in the road
a place you used to watch
the milk man drive by

you stare at strangers
and they look right through you

your skin is already translucent

you swore to yourself
you would not spend
too much time
looking for that same spot
on the sidewalk
where you stepped
on the crack
to break your mother's back

you didn't truly want it to break it
or maybe not all the way

you just wanted her to remember
the endless years
of ping pong paddles
beating you to the floor
the spine that never healed

at night when you are speechless
you wonder
if a dying language
can be saved

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Copyright © 2024 Connie Post All rights reserved
from Between Twilight
NYQ Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission