2 poems

by Uma Menon

Winter Park High School

deserted playground

learning to play is difficult
in a deserted playground 

more so than learning to read
write    sing    dance      finding

enjoyment in each act becomes
more and more difficult 

as i age. to know that my skin
will rust to ash gray one day 

like the chain of my swing
& leave the earth suddenly 

like the children of an aging
neighborhood              i cannot fathom

when i press my ear against
the basketball hoop  

i hear songs of children whose touch
turned this playground to rust.

telekinesis

in quietude, i search for a voice
that my ear cannot pick up 

& tighten the lid of a long-
emptied jar. by day, i hope that  

telekinesis can move my mind
into closed spaces, but it  

is claustrophobic, incurably so.
i wonder where my mind goes 

after the moon swallows this jar
& where i go after this. to the same

place i hope, so telekinesis can
move silence away from me.