I have often wondered about
that noble, gutsy cheddar
that dared to stand alone.
You know it would have never worked.
Still, you remember his wild eyes
the night he showed you London
in a way you’d never seen.
The stars meant things to him,
especially the second to the right.
And you wanted him to love you
enough to leave, but you didn’t
love him enough
The ground feels cold—
beneath your quiet feet.
Wringing the Rubik’s cube for a solution,
gentle skill reconciles nine tiny blue squares to become a face
segregated from the greens, reds, and yellows.
Your nimble fingers work salvation into the block
then offer it to me, a finished product fallen to my lap.
Music plays, people talk, we tell stories—life continues—
as I confuse the cube into madness and return it again.
We were supposed to make promises,
let our tongues taste commitment
and then say things aloud.
But the afternoon sun made us lazy,
lying on the warm wood of that dock,
while one—I think it was you—
dragged a reed through the waters,
that slick rip the only noise.
We were sixteen, seventeen, and
thought we’d already made our plans,
imagined the future was our own.
Seven of us that summer, and the next,
You and I made awkward conversation,
their absences throbbing like wounds
between us as we wished for that day
on the dock, when—given another chance—
we would have found our voices.
I can never forget the summer night that
turned into morning with no help from us.
We talked about waiting
but barely knew the word.
And I always thought I could teach you things,
but you were chasing sunsets and pyramids,
islands and adventure.
My words were never the hammock
where you’d nap on lazy days.
I became a moon, orbiting you,
and you became the boy
who never looked at the sky.
When the stars fall, then do they fall to you?
Do you collect them in your room, in your fists?
And is your blood red like ours,
or a string of lyrics, if you opened your vein?
The scar, the recipe for spring.
Your hesitations reinvent color.
Your choices taste like fireworks.
Your whispers, the ghosts of philosophers,
the ones who spoke truth as best they knew how.
… and maybe you don’t care. That’s fine too. 🙂
But if you want to know and understand me, you’d have to read my creative work. I invite you to click a link below!
Drops of Jupiter, Revisited | Do you know the Train song? These jottings take place in the years before the song.
Valuing the Arts | Flash fiction satire.
Nine Names | Flash fiction I wrote to help myself sort through “The Problem of Susan.”
Date a Girl Who Writes | An essay I wrote as a companion essay to Rosemarie Urquico’s brilliant “Date a Girl Who Reads.”
Seeing Saturn | An excerpt from my work-in-progress.
Rooster | A short story about holding on and letting go during those crazy college years.
The Call | A poem inspired by jealousy and a friend’s phone call.
Madam, Meet Adam | A short story about Adam meeting Eve for the very first time.
Susan of Narnia | This poem also helped me to explore “The Problem of Susan.”
Which Education? | A poem … kinda fan fiction … about my own story.
Why Christians Should Write | Some thoughts on the matter.
Gala at Death | A poem about the death of my poems.
What I Want to Say | A poem from college, recently revised.
On the Shore | A poem about the disciples seeing Christ after His resurrection.
Grace Beneath the Line | Creative non-fiction I wrote for my senior capstone in undergrad.
Edmund | A poem about Edmund Pevensie, my favorite character from the Narnia series.
The Colors | Jottings about my favorite colors.
Half-Mast | Speculative fiction set in the distant future. Satire.
Why Write? | Thoughts on why I love writing.
Brought to You by the Letter V | Jottings on letters.
Invitation | A poem I wrote in college about a summer love/fall heartbreak.
Scenery Matters | A brief poem inspired by the accompanying photo.
Tall, Dark, and Handsome | A poem about a boy.
Castle | A short poem about Cair Paravel in ruins.
Knit | A poem about my bestie.
Her Life in Red | Flash fiction.