Swing Expectancy

Barry Blackhawk
©1999 Barry Blackhawk

     Playgrounds have the swings, 
     And all those other things.
That are made for children for to play on. 
     But a swing they never knew,
     Made by me and you,
That's even worthy to cry and pray on. 
     I never in my life,
     Tried to make a natural wife,
The way I know it must be done forever 
     We owe this to our kind,
     To never look behind,
But hoping for tomorrows worthy endeavor. 
     It hangs so open waiting,
     For supposed mating,
And swollen nights of real and true contentment, 
     A life, a stir, a kick,
     Of morning being sick,
But caring less because of real consentment. 
     A little nose of cornmeal,
     Can make a dream so real,
As antecedents hope to heap their love, 
     Uncles, aunts, galore.
     Grandpas. Grandmas, more,
Would smile and say that's what we're made of.
     So swing you wait for me,
     And a mother whose to be,
And do your duty when the time arrives, 
     Obey the law of earth,
     With another birth,
And move to help us with our lives . . . .

March 1972
Some Rope,
A Stick,
A Pendleton.



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