The Lyric Poem Prize
Winter 2015
Tim Harkins


There’s a moment when we clasp 
hands and flap our arms faster 
until a membrane stretches 
between and lifts us into 
the sky.  We’re children again.  
We’re surrounded by laughter 
on playgrounds where we never 
grew up instead of old fools
indulging in a moment 
of play while saying good night.  
We are some new human race 
whose touch conjures wings, whose kiss 
twists our kaleidoscope 
reverie into focus.
©2015 Tim Harkins