Heather

A Poem by Maxwell Ryder

I remember
Her name was Heather,
And she became a woman
That summer.
She sprout legs
She grew tits,
She stopped biking with
Her boy friends;
She began stealing
the eyes of men
Till along came “Bronco Mike”
Later that summer,
Offering her rides,
Telling her “Get in!”
Now she stays indoors
And cries.

© 2018 Maxwell Ryder

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Reviews

barleygirl

I love the way you put this across in a sketchy way, letting us fill in the blanks, which can be easily done since we've all watched such a downfall happen. I also like the way your word choices are a little blunt here & there, as if being narrated by someone who could care less. There's something interesting about employing such an attitude in your depiction . . . seemingly no empathy (((HUGS))) fondly, Margie