Down the Street by Steve Klepetar

My cousins laugh all the way down the street.
They can’t catch their breath for laughing.
Their hands are empty, but for the rain.
They wear their mischief as a flowing cloak.
I fear they will not be able to breathe,
they will slide and fall on the muddy path
near the school.
The teachers will scold and slap.
Maybe they will be sent home to change
and my aunt’s fury will burn their skin red.
I worry that I will never catch up.
Their voices rise above the tree line.
Their bodies rise in the air like birds.
I offer my hands. If they need me, I will be their perch.
I offer my eyes. I will watch them forever,
as they circle above, building their nests out of golden straw.



Steve Klepetar lives in the Berkshires in Massachusetts. His work has appeared widely and has received several nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. He is the author of fourteen poetry collections, including Family Reunion, The Li Bo Poems, and A Landscape in Hell.