Orchard by Nijole Miliauskaite

it was as though you were standing before a fence
and beyond the curved slats, woven with
blossoms and leaves, over there, in the orchard,
a group of children played
barefoot, ragged, grubby
your heart
shudders, half-wild: those children
racing around, that orchard, longed for
you discover suddenly, within yourself, how badly
you’d play forgetting yourself, neither eating, nor sleeping
you start – someone calls your name
beckons you – come! You look around – do they really
want me?
that wall, sometimes stone, tall, thick
sometimes transparent, or glass, didn’t I
build it myself?
I hear
clanging coming closer, a drum
and from around the corner a group of well-wishers wind
their voices growing louder, clearer
my poor
heart