Minute Avenue

with love to D,

I run through Minute Avenue
or does she run through me?
I jump upon her stepping stones
counting, one jump, two jump, three!

I sing in Minute Avenue
or does she sing in me?
I repeat her prized syllable
till it rings out in jubilee.

I round about Minute Avenue
or does she round about me?
I grow so drunk and dizzy
it’s impossible now to see.

I become lost in Minute Avenue
or does she become lost in me?
I meander through her alleys—
going home is no guarantee.

I find glass encasing Minute Avenue,
or does she find glass encasing me?
I wonder as I wander through
if she’ll – if I’ll – ever be free.

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It has been awhile since I wrote a rhyming poem. When I initially got the idea for this poem and was thinking about how to write it, I worried that rhyming might cause the poem to lose its greater, more serious message that I wanted to include. How suppressed or prevalent that message actually turned out to be, I'll leave up to you.

In any case, I'm personally disappointed with how this one turned out and will be experimenting with it a little more—maybe keeping the message but writing a non-rhyming version you can look for in the future.

Yours,
Katja