For my 11th National Poetry Month post, I would like to share a poet who got my attention in Column 369 of the American Life in Poetry with her poem
“Red Balloon Rising”
I tied it to your wrist
With a pretty pink bow, torn off
By the first little tug of wind.
I jumped to catch it, but not soon enough.
It darted away.
It still looked large and almost within reach.
Like a heart.
Watch, I said.
You squinted your little eyes.
The balloon looked happy, waving
The sky is very high today, I said.
Red went black, a polka dot,
Then not. We watched it,
Even though we couldn’t
Spot it anymore at all.
Even after that.
It’s wistful and sad and who hasn’t (as a child or as an adult with a child) “watched it,/Even though we couldn’t/Spot it anymore at all.”
The full article can be found here.