The South Shore

Where I am from
men cook seafood
and take their boats across
the river for the day

woman scrub boats
stop fires
make contracts to keep
singers and dancers on
the stage

children pull money out of
corn husks and learn to swim
before they walk

bridge suspends itself
outside kitchen window
the streets are full of holes
kids play stickball and rollerskate
until bumpers of cars nudge them
to sidewalks

manhunt lasts all night
no stranger’s garage or basement
is off limits for the hiding

men put out fires
raise buildings
plough snow
women study the origin of language
bring the dying back to life

all drink from full glasses
buy the best meat and bread

grandparents come from Manhattan
from Brooklyn
sold newspapers
lived in tenements
had no running water as children

settled here
where the best dough makes
the best pizza
bagels
pastries
because of
something in the water

children learn to drop
their r’s
wrestle for sport
order from the deli

backyards are small
houses kiss each other
there are clam bakes
at the south shore
boat clubs on front lawns

cars fill garages
line the streets
the train where I come from
doesn’t cost any money

but there are a hundred metal
stairs from the ground
to the platform

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About amyleighcutler

Writer, dancer, vagabond extraordinaire
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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