June 2005  

Moving    © by    Katherine Russell Barnes
 

For us, moving is a down thing, always
fleeing the latest failing.

Tin rattles against the sturdy sofa.
Dresser legs stick up, obscene
in the borrowed truck. Ragged tarps
flap their anger in impatient rain.

Something is always broken.
Something always lost.

Father, hungover from last night’s binge
barely misses a boulder in the path
as big as a cow. And I know that
Mother’s tears have crusted her cheeks
or new ones are falling.

I crouch in the back of the pickup,
no view ahead. Smudged memories behind
of too many schools, too few friends,
and no link to join them.

Will we ever be moving up, or always
just moving on?

Previously published in the North Carolina Poetry Society's
Pinesong: Awards 2005. Used with the poet's permission.
NOTICE: The copyright © for this poem belongs to the poet.