“Kite Flying at Crump Park” by Art Heifetz


I searched for you
In early morning reveries
And midnight dreams,
Turning in my sleep
Until the covers
Lay entangled at my feet.
But you had left
No forwarding address
And there was silence from your grave.

So I composed a poem for you
Of all the tender words
That had remained unsaid between us.
I wrote it on the streamer of a kite,
Praying that the wind would find you.
Your grandson insisted on drawing
A bright red heart at the end
For the Mimi he had never known

I hoped the purple dragon
With its fire-breathing nostrils
Would not offend you.
I knew you would have preferred
Monkeys,
The children’s favorite animal,
But the store was all sold out.

We raced across the field,
I unwinding the spool
And your grandson clutching
The last bit of line.
A gaggle of sleek black geese
Scattered in our wake.
Let go, I cried.
The kite performed a somersault
And slowly started to climb.
I alternately tugged and let out twine
Until
Reaching the end of the spool,
The dragon broke free at last.
Soaring higher still
In the boundless azure sky,
It shrank to the size of
The dot in the question mark
Which follows the words,
Where are you.