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Scavengers

A Poem

Published on:
July 22, 2019
Read time:
1 min.
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He was born into a land
where vines curl across fields
and summer cicadas sing him to sleep.

He is a scavenger,
finder of forgotten things.
Hawks, fishhooks, pliers. 

He throws sticks
until ripe mangoes fall
freshly bruised on the ground.

He spots treasure on the freeway,
asking to snatch the bucket, the boot,
and something he swears was an owl. 

We discover a pulsing soul,
so he wills his wildness away
while I give my body to bear

Our son was born into a land
where power lines slice the sky
and lawn mowers sing him to sleep.

The cinder walls know
that he inherits more than
a gutter-swiped soccer ball.

When he hops tide pools and
spots tiny shrimp that squirm,
invisible to the careless eye
we will be ready.

Sarah L. Yoon
Sarah L. Yoon lives in a whirlwind. While her husband, son, and Airedale terrier dig holes in the backyard, she forms creative communities, writes interior design articles for Engaged Media, and pushes her storytelling to the next level. Her work has appeared in Every Day Fiction and she received an honorable mention from Glimmer Train Press’s Very Short Fiction March/April 2018. Find Sarah on Twitter @sarahlyoon and Instagram @slywriter.

Cover image by Denny Muller.

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