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46 lines
1.4 KiB
Plaintext
46 lines
1.4 KiB
Plaintext
school-mandated poetry: day 6 / terza rima
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2018-01-11
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***
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a pair of mismatched boots
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and hair the color of an almost-dead sky
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and eyes far kinder than any garden's shoots
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he said his name was Xander LaTye
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but I think we both know that piece of news is fake
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but that secret, to keep, is his and mine
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a level of floating platforms of concrete; in his hand a rake
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across the abyss, a train station back to the waking world
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and in his eyes, a fear that I would forsake
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"Say wolf," he said, "to make the platform whirl.
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Don't worry about me. I'm sure we'll meet anew."
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and I felt both his and my fingers curl
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and together we jumped through
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but he disappeared somewhere along the way
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and I woke up without him too
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when asked to describe him to the police, I wanted to say
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that his fingernails were diamonds in the rough
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and if I ever saw them again, just one more time, I'd be okay
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and then, several years later, when I'd grown more tough
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we met again in the lap area of the old community center pool
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and "one more time" suddenly wasn't- wouldn't ever be- enough
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his limbs splayed out, cheeks puffy with held-in air, water cool
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the sharp slope of the deep end crystal-clear in the water far too
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chilly
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and suddenly I realized that my hope was the mark of a fool
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so I kicked to the surface, goosebumps frilly
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legs spasming to be anywhere but that horrid twelve-foot deep end
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and I resolved again to never be so silly
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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