The Gate’s Lock
She was a little girl
Living in Nashville
Ten years old in
1935.
A party is planned at
the local pool
The Tennessee sun
reflecting diamonds off the turquoise water
The sound of cicadas
on the warm June breeze
The clean smell of
chlorine stinging her throat.
Her feet slap the
concrete as she runs to the gate
Her dark brown curls
short and bouncy
Her mother follows
behind.
The girl is pulled
towards the flickering oasis
And reaches for the
latch on the gate
When her mother grabs
her wrist, pointing to a sign on the gate
No dogs
No blacks
No Jews.
No Jews.
The girl frowns and
deflates
Turning away from the
glittering sea
Away from the
laughter of children
Away from the
children allowed inside.
To some,
The pool was always
closed.
Literally this is my favorite poem i want to use it for poem of the day. You present the scene and "landscape" effortlessly where its like your not trying it just happens with your writing voice.
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