Metallic Aftertaste

sticky sap years

i wonder if they have painted the shutters yet

that pale yellow my brother used to paint / the whole house that one summer

but his labor is chipping now / sun baked and fading

i could have sworn it was just last year / yet somehow more than ten have slipped away

those sticky sap years

they collected in the gutter one at a time / and no one noticed until it was full

i look back now and they’re all amber

i wonder if the new family took down the swingset / the one with the green plastic seats and the rubber chain

the ones that floated over red mulch and weeds

back when they were dandelions