LilBam by: Natalie Stovall – 2017
Out behind the garage,
down a beaten grassless path,
beyond the concrete desert near the fence
which divides territory from territory,
a seasoned squadron of warped, rusted forms
with wilting wheels and crooked spokes awaits orders.
Await long.
Await still.
Fingers of ivy creep up
toward the handle bars, wanting to ride.
Maybe they’ll learn to, someday.