Next Generation

Water
Trapped on the slope of a street
And the street stopped at the feet of the crowd
And father buried the books
Until I grow up
Grow up and become a man
For you, a woman found only in books

I spread open the books
In a loving relationship of sun and porch,
Father and the old smell of damp lines
On the slope of the street
And the street stopped at the feet of the crowd

We have a little boy
A sapling, who’ll be a jungle one day

Now on all four walls
Only your memories are moving
Wind is blowing
And the prisoner’s a restless flag
Attached to a sturdy pole