Lower Mill Pond Park

Lower Mill Pond Park
by Kat Good-Schiff
Between the slow clash
of sidewalk and trees,
the frozen pond collects
bottles and scraps.
Secrets of history,
beer and dust get caught
among riparian weeds.
This is not where I was raised
but it might as well be;
I still slink around
lonely in the night.
Too shy for ghosts, I think
of the men walking
over a long-gone bridge
to the factory that stood
where I now stand.
The stars I saw then
hung over a different park
but the swings were the same
the buildings were the same
the same windows
shone against night.