Inter-City Intercession

K.HartlessJanuary 7, 2022January 7, 2022Fresh Finds, Poetry

The city is a saint.
I climb on my tire swing
to try and get a closer view of God.
Pray daddy tied the rope as true as his own.

His old Chevy tire
I swing without a push
reach out belief and bag a blessing
off a skyscraper’s spire.

What Would Silvia Plath Write #141-50 words in her style

Published by K.Hartless

K.Hartless is a persistent poet and eclectic fiction writer. She’s been recently published in Luna Station Quarterly, The Last Girls Club, Edge of Humanity Magazine, Pure Haiku, and Spillwords. Her blog, Yardsale of Thoughts, blends fiction, poetry, music, and art to create new experiences for readers. View all posts by K.Hartless

4 Comments

Jeff Flesch says:

January 7, 2022 at 20: 21

Oh, K, this one resonates so deeply. Reminds me of being a kiddo…love this poem…Happy weekend!

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1. K.Hartless says:
  
  January 7, 2022 at 23: 35
  
  Thanks, Jeff. I’ve always loved a tire swing. Cheers to a good weekend!
  
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  Reply
  1. Jeff Flesch says:
    
    January 8, 2022 at 01: 27
    
    Most welcome, K. Me too. Cheers!
    
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Hobbo says:

January 8, 2022 at 03: 03

Can I have a go on that swing? Please! 🤣

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Published by K.Hartless

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