James Swanson

This Hill

This hill, I stand on the green of an outskirt portal
Facing up and out
The atmosphere lifts me into the clouds
Brought back down to the inbound skyline.
The base of the hill inscribes a fence, chain
Linked with a fresh black
Beyond its boundaries-the industrial on its slow march to the city.
This hill, a natural break
From the bustle
Of the central market.
These neighborhood homes, from the front
The park
Beyond the backyard fence
Park Street.
This hill
A doorway
My last
Breath of
Fresh air…
Before I dive down…
Into the city…
This hill.




[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2010 EDITION]


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