Jumping Roofs

By DAVID LIVEWELL

The younger junkies, for a thrill, would toss
Each other roof to rowhouse roof across
Thin alleyways of light, a game whose loss

Might match addiction. One slip and you’re there
Halfway and falling fast. They straddled air
With shrieks and crazed delight. We had to stare

To justify such suicidal play.
Our stomachs flipped. We couldn’t walk away
On the firm ground where heads might crack one day.

 

David Livewell is the author of Shackamaxon, winner of the 2012 T.S. Eliot Prize from Truman State University Press.

[Click here to purchase your copy of Issue 07]

Jumping Roofs

Related Posts

Image of a statue of a woman wearing a dress in white against a beige background, cover of Ama Codjoe's poetry collection.

September 2022 Poetry Feature: Ama Codjoe—from BLUEST NUDE

AMA CODJOE
When my mother was pregnant, she drove / every night to the Gulf of Mexico. / Leaving her keys and a towel on the shore, / she waded into the surf. Floating / naked, on her back, turquoise waves / hemming her ears, she allowed / the water to do the carrying.

view of valley from mountain

August 2022 Poetry Feature: Nathan McClain—from PREVIOUSLY OWNED

NATHAN MCCLAIN
Had I not chosen to live there— / among the oaks and birches, / trees I’d only ever seen in poems / until then…spruce, pine, / among the jack-in-the-pulpit / (though I much preferred “lady slipper”) / the tiger lily, milkweed, the chickadee / and blue jay, even the pesky squirrel

Park Bench

Translation: Poems by Juan de Dios García

JUAN DE DIOS GARCÍA
He speaks to us of Finnish lakes, of a dialect populated by birds and fruit, of high wooded hills, perpetual snow, a petroleum sky. “In the north they’re raised on melancholy,” he says, “and their dead weigh more than those from here.” He speaks of a Greek father and a war.