Poem: Seven

By: Dr. Ernest Williamson


I’m seven again;
video games aren’t just games
they are works of wonderment; feelings of calm
before the fireworks in July at Grandma’s house.
beauty is more than oblivion  of youth.
it’s in my rapid fingers abusing the joystick
with no mimetic relent.
it’s in the sincerity of taking a good hit
from a friend in the backyard Super bowl game.
it’s conquering
any notion
that girls can be anything more than beautiful monsters
out to confuse me.
but there is something even more interesting
about being seven years old again.
something even more magical than play;
it’s the realization that a canary
can fly,
and eventually lie still on the lawn,
sleeping  without cadence;
requiring me to ask,
what does such a condition mean for the pretty bird?
but perhaps, more importantly,
what, if anything, will it mean for me?


Dr. Williamson has published creative work in over 550 journals. His poetry has appeared in journals such as The Oklahoma Review and Review Americana. His artwork has appeared in journals such as The Tulane Review and The Columbia Review. He is an Assistant Professor of English at Allen University and his poetry has been nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology three times.


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