This building is a maze.
I cannot find my way.
You wait for me, somewhere.
There are many people
but none of them are you.
The ceilings are high.
but the rooms are crowded
with heavy Victorian furniture.
A pelican fies in through an open window
and regurgitates a child
onto the plank floor.
I pick you up, but you grow
too large for me to hold.
You are old now, bent and thick.
The pelican returns to retrieve you.
I am alone in the parlor
but I can see the sky out the window
and you, on the pelican’s back,
flying into it.
--
sharon brogan
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