Poem: Shadows | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Hudson Valley; Chronogram

Arts & Culture » Poetry

Poem: Shadows

by

comment

I am aching.

I hear my bones creak like the front door of your summer home—

Upstate, New York. In late

July of '95,

we were thirteen, and I had never kissed a boy before.

The light in the

sky was pink with tomorrow's heat, and our mothers were in

the kitchen drinking beer,

flicking cigarettes

into a make-shift ashtray.

We would tell our friends at

school we were

like brother and sister, but that summer left us strangers.

You reached for my hand.

That night the lake would

be illuminated by fireworks, and I would get

the courage to tell you

that I thought I was

the reason my father left, and you would kiss my cheek because

you felt the same guilt.

Our sundial hearts

would cast shadows in the yellow porch light, reminding us

we would never be so

young and so old.

Now, I am old, and still young, but I have forgotten how

to tell time with my

heart, and you have

forgotten me—but I promise,

I still ache for the

moments to slow

just as they did

the summer we were thirteen.

Add a comment

Latest in Arts & Culture

  • 13 Seclusion Selections for Your (Growing) Reading List
  • 13 Seclusion Selections for Your (Growing) Reading List

    Local Bookstore Owners Share their Quarantine Book Picks
    • Apr 4, 2020
  • 4 Creative COVID-19 Business Pivots
  • 4 Creative COVID-19 Business Pivots

    We're impressed and grateful for the creative pivots Hudson Valley businesses have been taking to ride out this COVID-19 storm. As always, crisis seems to breed ingenuity. Here are some of our favorite COVID-19 business pivots.
    • Apr 2, 2020
  • Ghost Lights Burning: Hudson Valley Venues Face COVID-19
  • Ghost Lights Burning: Hudson Valley Venues Face COVID-19

    With social distancing measures and the country on lockdown until at least the end of April, Hudson Valley entertainment and music venues struggle to stay afloat, working to pivot while grappling with an unknown future.
    • Apr 1, 2020