Photography © Edward S. Gault


Eleven Parks

I don’t belong in this earth, that’s what this
Park is saying, something separates me from the ladybugs and grasshoppers,
Apart from the moon-cratered-concrete potholes,
Everywhere I turn, there’s the track, blocking my escape,

It took eleven parks to feel at home,
A piece of greenery amongst the concrete
But finally, it’s mine
Can I let go?

And release the memories from my childhood
Where I used to beat every kid in jumping jacks and jumping jump rope from
Battery, to Astoria, or Central Park.
For something real,

It is only the city for me, despite my European country heart
It took eleven parks to finally feel at home, though,
With the tulips in my lips, a little bit,
And the burrowed taste, your after taste, your burial flavor.


Enne Baker is a Montenegrin American poet. Born in Peć, Kosovo, Baker studied at Queens College in Queens, New York, where he currently resides.

Edward S. Gault is a poet and fine art photographer. He lives at Mosaic Commons, a co-housing community in Berlin, Ma. He has a wife Karen, and daughter.