Playroom
By Mary Barnard
Wheel of sorrow, centerless.
Voices, sad without cause,
slope upward, expiring on grave summits.
Mournfulness of muddy playgrounds,
raw smell of rubbers and wrapped lunches
when little girls stand in a circle singing
of windows and of lovers.
Hearing them, no one could tell
why they sing sadly, but there is in their voices
the pathos of all handed-down garments
hanging loosely on small bodies.
Copyright Credit: Mary Barnard, “Playroom” from Collected Poems (Portland: Breitenbush, 1979). Used by permission of the Estate of Mary Barnard.
Source: The Collected Poems of Mary Barnard (Breitenbush, 1979)