Phillip Hua © 2016 All Rights Reserved

Poverty Marbles


because she thought her life was a happy life
my mother had too many pictures
the colors were military
what I do well is sit

the idea of swimming came first
there was no water
the idea of water followed
there was no lakebed
the water filled the riverbed

the riverbed crept into the houses
we were rich enough to have basements
the beds wheeled out to the windy streets
the sheets raised for sails the children
sailors on a narrow ocean

the idea of money was not far behind

there was a cave I could have lived in
but I was allowed to say these things

if Iíve wrapped my pebbles in twine again
is it so much less than glass or more than
dreaming so far inside myself as I unroll

back into my circular corner

 



Rich Ives
Copyright © 2016  

Rich Ives won the Francis Locke Memorial Poetry Award from Bitter Oleander and the 2012 Creative Nonfiction Prize from Thin Air magazine. He is the author of a fiction chapbook, Sharpen; Light from a Small Brown Bird, poetry; and a story collection, The Balloon Containing the Water Containing the Narrative Begins Leaking.


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