Letdowns

Always, the day disappears somehow.
My long thread of recollections grows

translucent, gradually telescoping away
from me with a muffled whirr. I would seize it,

and hand it to you wound tightly onto a spool,
if I could. I made my last wish by a sprawling ocean

somewhere, my skin tinted and pearly under an almost
full moon, thoughts hushed by a pointed sense of defeat

The boy next to me sat measuring time by smoking
cigarette after cigarette, each five-minute increment

billowing with tension, interrupted by the occasional
flare of a shooting star. He waited for the silence - -

that crashing quiet unique to unrequited feelings
to unfurl, to stop folding over and onto itself.

and I wished for you to catch a glimpse of this scene
or examine it closely (the way you would watch the wispy

strokes of my hand create a chiaroscuro world on paper),
so that you could see how beautiful and backwards it all was.

Reviews

[Emily B]

wow

[...]

. wow ... what i like best about poetry ... on most days ... is the sheer force with which an emotion is expressed and lands on the last line ... with a finality and skill that only profound observation can embody ... today is one of those days ... and this last line we have here ... is brilliant ...