A Still Photograph

When sunset rays walked by the terrace,
little kids and their smiles come by our house.
They left their slippers before the entrance
and went inside the four cornered
playground that will soon be
plumped with noises that sing my childhood’s tune.
We frolicked from the afternoon
until it was night: giggling
and waggling1 around like bees
as we stung each other with glee.

My mother was busy looking after us
while sewing pants that were
a foot longer than I was. The best dress for a clown,
I thought. And delight became a giant in me;
it couldn’t wait when it was done;
to seize all the smirks and crush them
into pieces of laughter. And a rapture
swelled around the smallest kid
inside oversized jeans: making
everyone blush and cackle2.

And the sun slept so long in the night.
I closed my eyes for the next day
but woke up with the window soaked
with never ending knocks of rain.
I grew up with that sound
and the silence of paper, pens and books
I had to spend everyday with
inside thick and deafened walls.
Cold mists sneak through the closed door now,
and a frown stands still in the shadowed room.
I hear nothing but my breathing,
As I smoke a stick
stabbing my lungs with smoggy air.

1 move rapidly back and forth
2 high-pitched laughter

-Darylle Rubino-