Moving Forward: “The Vines” by Nathan Dicken

Dear Allison,

	Have I told you about the vines?	
        They reach through the grey 
	rock bricks on the left side
	of Crystal, on a corner apartment

	They rest off the blue line
	at the Damen stop. You turn 
	right- out of the brown stained
	oak doors with the white trim-
	You walk right past the bloody
	mary's and that pretentious speakeasy

	Then there are only four more
	black ground intersections until
	Potomac, you must turn left
	then Crystal and the ivy:
		which reaches out towards her
		whose roots themselves only know
		   where they are buried
		whose green shows through their
		   brown wilting leaf edges

	They point my path, and point
	me always fleeting, they 
	shudder my heart:
		their equal, their own kin
		growing out of my beige bricks-
		cracked and woeful yet
		still capable of shelter for 
	the families in it's keep.

	The vines they show me the last
	length to her. They lead to 
	her black iron gate before her
	doorstep.I dance and sway in the breeze,
	in soft orange hues as I wait 
	thinking of them. 

	I feel the vines straighten my back
	and they raise my chin.


Moving Forward
  is a new collaborative column between Nathan Dicken and Allison Maloney. The two best friends, separated by thousands of miles and full-time, “real people,” jobs seek the opportunity to remain connected through words and imagery. You’re invited to read along.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s