11th September 2019

Walking on Swings

Text by: 

Ian Macartney

Photo by: 
Danielle MacInnes on Unsplash


Wobbling above wet grass
on a plastic hoverboard rope-taut

I looked to constellations
for consolation. Orion’s Belt sought

its stoic place past the first half
of a question mark, jumping from

these plates children leap off
in tandem to friendlier pendulums

and I yearned for what was lost
when moving from years of agony

so comfortable into sometime
unknown. When a friend found me

with their light I clutched his back,
shoeless, into the warmer house party

and wondered if this time and more
would become bone-white acne

tracing maps of the sky.