At the Cop Station

by Uriel Tovar

the fire engine twirled
its lights
as the sleepy cousin bowed his head
and asked where she was.

i directed his disconnected attention
to the babe
being carried through the door.

she lit up the room
and called all by name
as her second wind
took flight
with the spirits in the room.

she swept it
with her blue crayon
and colored in the sky.


Posted on 09/12/2005
Copyright © 2020 Uriel Tovar

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Michelle Angelini on 09/18/05 at 05:27 AM

Ditto Jon, because your words emphasize that we can make of situations & lives what we wish. I've learned that the hard way. It's an inside job.

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