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  • Mary Ellen Swee

Bouncing Ball

I live in a world of shadows

where Center Road is a light grey ribbon

and the terrier seems as a bouncing ball,

where I feel you because I hear your voice,

and your sound, not your face, is what guides me.

I was pulled onto the center of Center Road,

my view of the world cloaked in lesions.

I blinked to watch a girl rising up from the lake

who looked like a sapling walking. Her pale skin

merged with the overcast sky and into the water below.

I know the lake lies in the east,

at the end of Center Road,

not because I make out a distant color or shape,

but I can feel the sun rise in morning

and I hear what must be whitecaps on a windy day.

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