The Farm Disappeared in Newton

The following submission appeared in “We Are Newton: A Neighbourhood Anthology.” See here for more information about the project.

By: Barbara Sarahan

Slippery wet but cold tiles.
A shriving smiling girl whirls into
the fast curve of the slide.

A piercing scream echoes, my skin crawls


A spinning basketball stood still in the sweaty air for a short second.
Runner’s rubber squeak as they slide across the glossy gym floor.

Stand in the lengthy lineup to board a bus in the soft warm rain.
Don’t dare look at each other; breathe a single word.

Stock the fruit stands across the street with cherries, blueberries and blackberries, from the nearby flats.

I long for those fields that disappeared many years ago.

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