Jennefer York Cole, two poems

A City Square

your eyes slide to the right taking mine with them past

our pints and popcorn over

the heads of benches in the crowded square around

the circling carousel carrying the screams

of horses planes and cars full of young happy

faces split in two by circles of surprise under

the hands of the tower clock that slowly make their way to a quieter space off to the side

where with the gentle touch of hands in step to another rhythm only they can hear two dancers swing in a graceful swirl of fabric


the city pavement

the carousel stops

the tower's face takes a moment to look

down and we all watch the swallows flirt overhead

wingtip brushing wingtip then moving


my eyes come back in time to see

the feel of your fingers touching mine

intertwined as your foot taps out a silent song


the table in a city square


Evening arrived, found me inside the bathroom on

the hard tile floor connected to the outside world

by a receiver and a long rubber cord escaping under

the door from around my younger finger.

I wound, unwound,

and rewound the wire; and the timer ticked down as lines

formed to be next. Darling. Love. You are the only one.

Calling voices caressed my ear, words whispered kept,