Ode to Arlen Levy

by Zola Hjelm

Remember when we swam across the bay

& when we got to the other side

I dumped back in

like a shark spotting trout under ripples

& we walked barefoot

naked & drying

into the burning urban sun

we stepped the asphalt & granite rocks

paved culture & sun shining

eyes of gold

digging to the top of our peak years

Remember how we trudged

the Third St. roads

blinded by night
but all the more

Happy

& smiling I remember all the stupid shit we pulled

& all the traits we

trade

saving our pennies for luck

then throwing them behind backs

for the Next to pick up on

blurred

but never forgotten

Haze of relentless camped out

Sweet days

& Reckless nights

Back Home

by Zola Hjelm

Hear the clank of feet on wood planks

Hear my steps like the bad seed clapping her shoes

god’s lightning never comes

But the ship’s whistle does

and parts us from the pier

Even crossed arms can not defeat wet cold

salt lies stiff in hair,

lashes, brows

takes in my clammy hands

like a lover I never could keep

I tremble, not from cold

nor from this ship which caught a whale’s rumble-

that shook platforms

It was the anxiety of lost childhood

Speaking clear in my ear

heavenly tones ringing the call

to home.

I still own a coat’s accidental playground tumble

still own pockets of childlike bliss

still own that frivolous comfort pushing me on neighborhood swings-

There is no ride taking me back

and sand between these creases of clothes

are now all but an edition of time,

slipping through fingers

hyperextended from premature hands

ignorant of the physics on grasping an object

Grains fall to the motherland

a place accurate- but seemingly so inapt

And the gates are closed, golden closed, silver closed, closed in brass

and blessings.