He dreamed of rafting
out of his schoolbook life,
trustful under stars that chart
the course of rivers, to a destiny
of praise. He’d dig for treasure
on an island off the map
and out of time. He’d dare
the ghost with grinning teeth
and make it say its dead secrets.
So he dreamed all summer-long
till summer ended in a fall
of river toward sea,
and Huck Finn drifted out
of childhood.
Taylor Graham, California, USA
2 comments:
This is such a great tale of boyhood. Good job.
Taylor Graham is a volunteer search-and-rescue dog handler in the California Sierra. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in American Literary Review, The Iowa Review, Poetry International, Southern Humanities Review, and elsewhere, and she’s included in the anthology California Poetry: From the Gold Rush to the Present. Her book The Downstairs Dance Floor (Texas Review Press, 2006) was awarded the Robert Phillips Poetry Chapbook Prize. Her latest project is Walking with Elihu, poems about the American peace activist Elihu Burritt, the Learned Blacksmith (1810-1879).
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