first published at Poetry Nook, September 2019
first published at Poetry Nook, September 2019
She stares at the t-shirt draped over her chair. A replica Eames deserves better than Metallica. Of all the things for him to leave behind!
Clasped like Excalibur, a knife thrusts up from a toilet, Metal up your ass written beneath. Who would think of something like that? Who would print it? Worse still, who would wear it? She knows the answer to the last, having argued with him before countless dinner parties, Sunday barbecues, visits from her mother.
She swats at the shirt as she would a spider, gets slapped in the face by Armani as it falls. Now it lurks on the floor, one more dead thing in a week of dead things, until her kick sends it skidding under
their her bed.
Hours later she listens to it whisper as sleep refuses her haven. If she lies just so her mind can ignore it, until a stray breeze blows a trace to her nose. She climbs from bed to hunt naked in the fragmented moonlight. The shirt is a cool breath on feverish skin, and she surrenders to heavy metal dreams.
I looked up from my cappuccino into sparkling green eyes.
The woman they belonged to seemed familiar. She sashayed towards me, dressed in layers that made me think of spring sunshine and daisies. Her look said she knew me, yet I couldn’t place her. Middle-aged like me, she wore her years with grace. Her walk was fluid and confident. When her pink-painted lips curved to a grin, I recognised her at last.
Harlee! That lopsided smile stripped away years to the last time i saw her, and I was once more beside her on the backseat of our school bus.
“Meet me back here at midnight,” Harlee said as she stood up to exit.
“Unless you’re chicken.” She smiled her lopsided grin and walked off down the aisle with an exaggerated sway in her hips.
At five before midnight, I rose quietly and snuck out through the dorm room, doing my best not to step on any of my fellow school-campers. They littered the floor in sleeping bags and blankets, snores rising from more than one open mouth. Now I stood back by the bus, rubbing my hands and watching small clouds escape my mouth in the fresh night air. After ten minutes of waiting I realised the truth—I’d been set up. I’d suspected it when Harlee had spoken on the bus, but had to try anyway. What else do you do when the prettiest girl in school dares you to sneak out with her? I walked a circuit of the bus, peering into bushes and expecting to hear laughter and catcalls at any minute. I knew the usual crowd would be gathered to make fun of me once more.
“Miles the stud! How did your midnight hookup with Harlee go, Romeo?” Why did I always put myself in the same situations?
Instead of the imagined teasing, I heard a soft, “Boo!” as I rounded the front of the bus. I turned quickly and, rather than the expected gang of leering jocks, I saw Harlee. She stood by the bus, wrapped in a blanket and moonlight.
“Harlee!” I said
“Ssh, not so loud. Miss Smythe will kill us if she finds us out of bed.”
“Sorry. Why are we out of bed, anyway?”
“You’ll see,” she said and offered me her trademark lopsided grin.
Harlee bent down and reached under the step of the bus. I caught a glimpse beneath her blanket as she bent and saw a hint of black lace as the long t-shirt she was wearing crept up. She must have flicked a switch or something and the bus door hissed open. Harlee skipped up into darkness. With a quick glance around, I followed.
I found her on the back seat. As I approached, she opened her blanket and beckoned me in. I paused, still half-expecting laughter and the joke to be revealed. Although she’d never picked on me like most of the other kids in our year, Harlee and I had never spoken more than a few words to each other since she’d arrived at school at the start of the year.
“Come on, Miles, don’t be shy.”
I sat down next to her, dumbfounded. She wrapped us both in her blanket.
“Wha-“ I began, and stopped as Harlee pressed her lips against mine.
After what seemed an hour, she moved back slightly and gave a small laugh. “Have you kissed a girl before?”
“No. Does it show?”
“A little.” Another laugh. “Go slower, softer. Like this.”
The windows near us fogged over, adding to the night’s otherworldly feeling. Rain pelted the bus as a storm broke outside. I imagined the back of the school bus was a cave, warm and far away from the cold world outside. In the darkness I discovered I could kiss for two hours straight — surely some kind of record. My hands explored Harlee’s hair and her face. I found a place where neck became shoulder that caused her to shiver each time I brushed it. Her breath quickened to gasps as my hand stroked her thigh, yet she deftly parried when I wandered too high. But she followed up with a smile and a laugh. I hated the dawn when it came.
“We have to go now,” she said.
“Five more minutes?”
“No, they’ll be up soon.”
I knew she was right but I didn’t care. Let them find us here, wrapped together. Let the whole world see. But Harlee stood up and the spell was broken.
“Come on,” she said.
“Harlee. I. I lo—“
“Ssh.” She reached out and took my hand, pulling me up.
We stepped off the bus and Harlee closed the door. She turned and placed her hands on each side of my face. The most beautiful girl I knew stared into my eyes. “You’re special, Miles. Never doubt it. Never forget it.” Harlee brushed my lips with hers, then turned and ran off into the dawn.
That was the last time we spoke. No matter how I tried to get time alone with Harlee on the last day of camp, she was always surrounded and wouldn’t meet my eyes. Camp ended and holidays began. When I returned to school, Harlee was gone. They were a military family and never settled anywhere long.
And now here she was, walking towards me as I sat in the mall with my wife beside me. I opened my mouth to say something, but Harlee lifted her finger to her lips and mimed, “Ssh.” She continued past and I half turned to watch.
“Perv,” said my wife, following my gaze.
“I know her.”
“Sure you do.” A laugh. “Come on, we need to pick the kids up from school.”
As I picked up my wallet and phone from the table, I glanced back the way Harlee had walked. Once again, she was gone. I turned back to my wife and took her hand.
Over the mountains
and down to the sea,
you must come now
if you hope to break free.
No time to mourn
for Autumn’s red bowers;
the light we once made,
now darkness devours.
I can play you
the rhymes of the kingdom,
I can sing you
the songs that you know;
but we must take wing
from this darkened halo –
we must take wing
for a devil wind blows.
Break from your prison
of urban malaise;
run to the ocean,
fly from your home.
I can’t promise you
that we’ll make it –
but take my hand
and I’ll never let go.
– Ryan Stone
It’s gravity, baby
and that’s how it started —
three whispered words
under the bleachers,
thrown into orbit.
Almost as quickly,
those starburst nights
of lying thisclose
There’s a point
whether to brace
or just to surrender –
for a heartbeat or two
it feels like you’re floating,
then the ground rushes up
to show you how endings
can sound like beginnings
You will never fall in love with me.
Don’t try to convince me
That I will always wait for you.
If you really look, you’ll see
I’m not here for the long haul
You give me reason to stay.
When things get hard I’ll leave –
I’m not like the others,
I’ll never say
I love you.
(Now read from bottom to top,
my bleeding heart undone.)
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