by Summer Stratton
i remember having milky tea
over the entire universe
condensed onto Main Street,
night sinking her gentle fingers
into low-hanging clouds
wringing cool rain to rinse me
of my necrotic baby-fat,
baptise the growing mind laden
with yearning for a true home
buried, dismembered, scattered,
remains recovered
from the breathing ocean shores
to the battered city street,
little fingers petrified and pressed
around splintered ceramic
Listen to the poem here :
Photo credit: Summer Stratton
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Summer Stratton wrote this poem about having tea at Crazy Wisdom Bookstore as a child, how immense the world seemed to be from behind the window, and, ultimately, how that child is now gone, her memory buried beneath the blossom of the city.
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This is an original poem, brought to you by Poet Tree Town, a Washtenaw-based poetry-in-public initiative and celebration of local poets. Find out more about Poet Tree Town on Instagram and Facebook, or say hello at [email protected].
