Arc

The sun is just a narrow slit.

The shadows start to stretch and knit

across the yard, across the street.

I walked the long way, just to meet

the silence that the neighbors lack.

The park is empty, cold and black.

A single swing began to sway.

It didn't have much left to say

but made a high and oily sound.

The chains were dragging on the ground.

The rubber seat was twisted tight.

It turned and turned against the light.

It’s going to be a heavy night.