Cynthia Yachtman, The Storm
Storm Slamming Suburbia
K. B. Jensen
Don’t you remember
the night the sky turned periwinkle?
Don’t you remember
telling me
you would never leave?
How clouds rolled in
Darkened
How you opened up your umbrella
Of promises?
Don’t you remember telling me
you could make me happy?
A patch of blue sky somewhere
Don’t you remember
Walking barefoot,
Stones caught between toes
walking through the grass
The downpour coming
drenching our clothes,
into jagged fabric skins
Clinging to us.
Don’t you remember,
Empty garbage cans sailing down the street
in gutter currents
slamming into parked cars
Don’t you remember
running through the stream
Grit and water swarming around ankles
Don’t you remember
pulling branches off me.
And me pulling branches off you.
Trying to make a nest like two birds
Trying to ride out
the storm slamming suburbia
Animals too
Don’t you remember
the whimpering of coyotes
Birds fleeing to higher grounds
The fox with the rabbit in his mouth
staring at us.
Blood and water streaming down his jaw
Water’s up to our shins now
Ice cold daggers against skin
Don’t you remember where we left our shoes?
I yell at you in the storm.
You grab my hand and we stay
Stay under cold, heavy drops
tangled wet hair saturated
down to the scalp
Don’t you remember, you say.
Don’t you remember that I’m here?
K. B. Jensen
Don’t you remember
the night the sky turned periwinkle?
Don’t you remember
telling me
you would never leave?
How clouds rolled in
Darkened
How you opened up your umbrella
Of promises?
Don’t you remember telling me
you could make me happy?
A patch of blue sky somewhere
Don’t you remember
Walking barefoot,
Stones caught between toes
walking through the grass
The downpour coming
drenching our clothes,
into jagged fabric skins
Clinging to us.
Don’t you remember,
Empty garbage cans sailing down the street
in gutter currents
slamming into parked cars
Don’t you remember
running through the stream
Grit and water swarming around ankles
Don’t you remember
pulling branches off me.
And me pulling branches off you.
Trying to make a nest like two birds
Trying to ride out
the storm slamming suburbia
Animals too
Don’t you remember
the whimpering of coyotes
Birds fleeing to higher grounds
The fox with the rabbit in his mouth
staring at us.
Blood and water streaming down his jaw
Water’s up to our shins now
Ice cold daggers against skin
Don’t you remember where we left our shoes?
I yell at you in the storm.
You grab my hand and we stay
Stay under cold, heavy drops
tangled wet hair saturated
down to the scalp
Don’t you remember, you say.
Don’t you remember that I’m here?