Growing up in Houston is summer
lifted in a hot ripple off a chewy tar roof,
a backyard tacked with patches of play dirt
and sparse grass
around a green swing set.
Two chains hang without the board seat.
A mockingbird
with military precision
divebombs the neighbor’s cat
caught on the prowl undercover
in the afternoon shadow of the chinaberry tree.
An attic fan wheezes air thick with humidity
through open windows and a latched screen door
while a dust ball plays chase with its tail
on a stained wood floor.
Fingers become a bare brush on doorknobs
in a one arm stretch from a dance on tiptoes.
Vagrant glances are thrown
around skirts, pants and leather shoes,
before being caught and caged into taking a nap.
The taste of talc from the scent on a pillow case
is familiar as the soft perfume of lotion
rubbed into a young woman’s hands,
her voice a mobile of words
balanced above our heads,
a sonic boom of discussions
spun around John Glenn and his orbit
in metal, plastic, and glass,
with Sputnik a pace car for Apollo 11
while my kid sister and me
just want to be barefoot in the hot grass.
A’keith Walters (penname, Gray) was born in Houston Texas in 1956 and has lived there all his life. He enjoyed his university years and received his B.A. in English Literature in 1978. He is an avid collector of black-and-white photography. He is fortunate enough to have two poems and one short story published. His primary occupation these days is the creation of a body of poetics for eventual publication.
loading...
11 Responses to “GROWING UP IN HOUSTON • by A’keith Walters”
Comments
« A PRAYER TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN • by Steve Goble | Home | STREETWALKER • by Mark Dalligan »
November 11th, 2008 at 9:58 pm
[...] See original [...]
November 12th, 2008 at 3:02 am
This is just wonderful. I hope the presentation is correct but if anything is wrong, just contact us and it’ll be fixed before the end of the day.
“The taste of talc from the scent on a pillow case
is familiar as the soft perfume of lotion
rubbed into a young woman’s hands,
her voice a mobile of words
balanced above our heads,”
I want my mother! Thank you for sharing with us this wonderful sensory experience.
November 12th, 2008 at 6:10 am
One of the best poems I have read in a long time. Amazing work.
November 12th, 2008 at 9:28 am
Just lovely. Very evocative.
“An attic fan wheezes air thick with humidity
through open windows and a latched screen door
while a dust ball plays chase with its tail
on a stained wood floor.” Great!
November 12th, 2008 at 12:34 pm
Great catch of moments and feelings in time. Like the way you’ve woven facets of history among the more personal reminiscences.
Cheers
Mark
November 12th, 2008 at 9:14 pm
This is one (just one!) of my favorites written by Gray. Tickles all the senses and brings a bit of a pang to my belly. Just wonderful work!
All the best, Gray!
Jen
November 12th, 2008 at 11:04 pm
Ahhh. Sputnik. I’d forgotten. Thanks.
November 13th, 2008 at 1:12 am
Very evocative poem. Thanks!
November 13th, 2008 at 10:37 pm
I wondered about the 2nd line, then later realized you were giving us a whole lot to chew on. I also really enjoy reading this one aloud. It flows well. I like it a lot. Thanks AKW.
November 14th, 2008 at 10:37 am
Great images. I love a poem that paints such a complete picture.
November 18th, 2008 at 11:05 am
Wow. What a nice reception. Thank you for the great comments. It is so encouraging.
AKW…aka, Gray