Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Poem in VerseWrights

I've got one more poem up at VerseWrights today, "This is the Last Time I Will Ever See You." It's one of my more personal poems, about my hometown and high school, which was a weird, conservative place and time generally. It's maybe or maybe not worth noting that I did actually reconnect with the subject of this poem about a year ago, and despite everything I'd wondered all the long years between when the action of the poem happened and when we reconnected, she was just existing and living out her dreams in the way I hope everyone I've ever loved is existing and living out their dreams. There was nothing to worry about, this whole time.

And how rare, to have a photo of the exact moment of a poem:

Please hop over to VerseWrights, where you can have a read. They have a two-column set up there, so the lines don't read straight across. I know that's a totally normal convention, but for some reason, the tabbed break has never worked for me, so I've also reproduced it below, if you'd like to have a read that way. I hope you enjoy!

This is the Last Time I Will Ever See You

and everything smells like patchouli.
Someone is playing a twelve-string guitar
and none of us are dancing, though I wish I was.

You’ve already gotten into the trouble.
Our Spanish teacher has seen you sneak
off to meet your secret boyfriend in the plaza.

You’ve already bought me the giraffe mug, a gift
to celebrate our graduation. Hooria, it’s still in my cupboard.
When you told me you’d been caught, I laughed it off.

Looking across to Morocco, you didn’t laugh at all.
The air was hot and dry, even in the dark. You’d known deserts before.
All year, I’d mailed packages for you, love notes to the UK.

As soon as we were home, you were gone.
Or maybe you are always here, your hair a dark spiral, your eyes lined in kohl.
Maybe we are always here, spinning to a song we will never hear again.