Melancholy Hyperbole

Poetry about longing.

Letters to Minnehaha Creek: IV.

Pass the morass
of Seagram’s boxes,

the red door of Powderhorn
Park Association.

Pass the squirrels
hiding acorns

in the knots of bare branches.
Pass absence.

How many miles
have you gone? We walked

5,000 on this webbed concrete.
Pass the chimes, and the plants

pressed against the windows
looking for the sun.

The Southside Pride paper waits
on the steps of the empty

condo. Cut through McRae Park,
pass the empty hockey rink,

the empty wading pool, the playground,
the navy sweatshirt hanging on the bush.

42 crows in the soccer field
have a lot to say about where

to go. Find a way
through their moving maze.

Pass the berries
amongst the lime-green leaves, plump

as if impervious to the frost,
waiting for birds to offer

passage to fertile land

~~~~~

Old branch the color of dirt raises
its amputated limbs to the sky.

You chatter quickly over the rocks.
The chicken wire holds me back.

Today you are a girl at her
birthday party. Bare feet

guide you through the rocks. New blue
gingham dress, arms outstretched to the future,

green sash trailing miles and miles behind.
The tall yellow grass stands in awe

with the presence of mind to drink deeply.
 
 
Victoria Peterson-Hilleque’s poems appeared or are forthcoming in Paper Nautilus, The Montucky Review, Poppy Road Review, Our Day’s Encounter and other journals. She’s the Poet-In-Residence at Solomon’s Porch Church in Minneapolis, Minnesota where she also teaches a poetry workshop.

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