Swing and Howl back at the Gods by Bogdan Dragos

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The sun no longer

hides behind

hills

because there are no

more hills

There’s only

buildings. One

taller and wider

than the

other

Our parents told us

that this city

is growing, expanding

but as far as we

see

it’s only

doing so upwards

We are still

young, still harboring

hopeful visions

that one day

we’ll leave

and we talk about

these hopes

while sharing beer

and gin

on the curb overlooking

the park

at 9 PM

“If we don’t make it out

soon,” says a friend, “we’re

all gonna end up

like her.”

His hand is wrapped around

an opened beer can

and a finger detaches to

point over the low

fence

at a girl who sits

alone on

the swing

We all knew her

thought not

personally

just from sight

She came to the park daily

and stood

by herself,

usually on a swing. Not swinging

though. Just standing

still

Long ago

the adults told us

that she was ill

and everyone should just

leave her alone

We did. And we realized

she was ill

when we heard her

howl like a wolf

at night

as she’d start swinging

in the swing

Apparently she only

did that

when the park was

completely empty

And we could

end up like her if

we didn’t

make it out by the

time we grew older

Well, I don’t know

what to say.

In all those nights

when she went

up and down

and up and down

in the swing

and howled… she seemed

happy

Meanwhile I’ve seen

people

in better places than

this city

and they weren’t happy

one bit

Perhaps it’s all

a matter of

finding the right swinging

motion

and howling back

at the gods

I could see myself

doing that.

I could

see myself

doing

that

every night,

indeed

-BOGDAN DRAGOS

Bogdan Dragos supervises casinos for a gambling company, working twelve-hour shifts locked in a dark office full of TV monitors. There he mostly daydreams and writes poems and stories. He also manages a poetry blog Daydreaming as a profession.

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