I. one minute I didn’t know
you & the next you
were on top of me on
Sara’s back porch, tasting
like flowers and Christmas.
II. when we tore my room apart
looking for your phone, I saw
your father’s anger shine
through your front teeth.
III. I remember lying
to them all & driving
to the beach, drinking
whiskey from the water bottle
we hid in a picnic basket.
IV. sometimes my heart still swells
for that time, fumbling around,
not being able to control
where we were going & not
wanting to
V. because we liked how it felt.
I still get that feeling
when I drive by your parents’ house
I still look for
your bedroom light.
Layla Lenhardt has most recently been published in Peeking Cat Poetry’s Yearly Anthology, Door is A Jar, and the forthcoming Third Wednesday and Muddy River Poetry Review. She is founder and Editor-in-Chief of 1932 Quarterly and she currently resides in Indianapolis with three cats.
Dear Reader, Who knew that a can-can dancer from the posters of Toulouse Lautrec would…
Eternal Return A crocus from the rotting flesh of a hedgehog, placed with the pansies…
Full Moon at Montmartre Claudette’s a can-can girl high-kickin’ it under the red windmill. She…
In the Light of Peace --painting by Bruce King of the Oneida Nation The travelers…
A Quad of Golden Shovels Internal Conversation at the beginning of Winter Wet and beautiful…