hanging

the red brick human honeycombs 

lined the stick ball stadium — the hide and go seek — 

the street — the first kiss by a centipede of cars — 

the waiting — the looking — and yearning 

for the welcome turn at the end of block —

then the stick ball play — and the hide — and the tag

then the fireflies in all the windowed cells bloomed a forest fire wave

then the day became foreshortened for the waiting and the hanging 

and the never-came festooned the glittering disappointment of the night

German Dario resides in Tempe, Arizona with his wife, two sons, three dogs, a guinea pig, many plants, and sometimes a fish. Recently, his work has appeared in Remington Review, Opossum, Gargoyle Magazine, Anacua Literary Arts Journal, Gyroscope Review, and San Pedro River Review.