Summers Ago Poem by Gregg G Brown

Our house was not a house until we built it—
Cobbled together like lincoln logs,
Pegged, dovetailed by pain,
By tragedy
Where the corners stain
And the past gets lost, frays to fog
Surrounding nothing until the house was built.

Here, eons flit quick as mayflies—fireflies
Flooding summers ago the orange-rusted screens
With night light, untouched
By tragedy….
Or so we had thought
As we looked upon the shining scene,
Our faces lit with the glow of new-born bodies.