Construction Literary Magazine

Fall 2020


Photograph via Flickr by feral rogue

I love coming back here
to this place where I was happy,
or maybe I was unhappy
and I keep coming back because
I’m not here anymore—not
there anymore. There’s a difference
between a great sorrow and a beautiful
catastrophe—beautiful for the way it
brought people together over it.

In the flying dream
I slip my fingers into the sidewalk cracks
and pull myself along, hand over hand,
reaching forward with bent elbows,
doing the crawl on dry land—
pull and recovery, pull and recovery—
scaling the earth horizontally until
suddenly I’m airborne—the sorrows
glinting in the sun, the catastrophes
dotting the backyards
like tiny swimming pools.