Poem 57: Florida Suite

not even for you cousin
can I leave these streets
that I know
this hopeful hopeless
line of standing frames
latch row of sepia faces
scoring my family years
two up, two down
two more or less to go
from these streets
that I know
they will not be left
not even for the Orange

Groves

where I dreamt to be
breathing the earth tame
long watching the night
canvas your eyes
star warm
but nor for me
here treading
this comfortable wheel
toward the home filled
grave, walking so lost
and smiling
in these streets
that I know.