1 poem

by Robert crawford

Detroit Catholic Central High School

ablution

Every summer the dock creaked
under unclean feet that tracked
pebbles across its wooden planks.
Bigger rocks we turned over
looking for crayfish, and, upon finding one,
trapped it in a sand castle bucket
before selling it back to the waters.
Our uncles sat in chairs
adorned in plastic glory,
told us how
the water was a foot higher
when they were children.
We chose our words carefully and quietly
for they carried farther over water.

Some nights we went to the water’s side,
carrying between our toes grains of sand
that fell between the slats of the dock.
Sobering currents hushed our voices
until we knew only
the rattle of the dock
for which we did not complain,
letting our feet hang off its edge.