Empty Seats

The streetlight has a nervous tic

above the gravel pit.

I’m walking home the long way

because I’m sick of where I sit.

The rubber sling is twisting slow,

a shadow on the chain.

The metal S-hook gives a shriek

like joints that feel the rain.

No kids are left to kick the dirt

or jump into the dark.

It’s just the wind and rusted iron

left inside the park.