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Long Beach, CA

Poetry Blog


Brandon Cook

When we stepped from the train
And smelled that green
Felt that heat on our skin
Saw the distance shimmer and wave
In springtime heat
All covered in the morning’s sheen

All the possible, all the hopes
Were held there, in that pause
Standing on the platform
As we breathed in greens and blues  
With pleated breaths,
Folded neatly within our chests
Measured, each, to give us time
To see the steps ahead

I said, “Let’s go”
And fumbled with the awkward weight
Of trunked up things

You can’t risk standing still
Too long in that sacred place
Where hopes and morning meet