‘That Day’ by Charlie Eliot Winters (Poet) FreeSpace #1

6 Nov


Puddles

.

That Day

by Charlie Eliot Winters

 

I woke up thinking about

all the rain that had pooled up

the night before –

stale puddles stained with oil

receding by mid morning.

Maybe you’ll walk through them with me;

your big brown boots

alongside my sand-filled sneakers

leaving traces on the pavement,

running through the runoff

with your curbside afterthought

 

By afternoon the puddles had dried

leaving behind pockets of dusty residue

stamped by skeletal leafs, wrens and strangers’ feet.

Maybe you’ll come out tonight

and we can walk through new rain –

Drops of old water

falling on us for the first time.

 

I went to sleep wondering:

what about the names?

and the places?

and the plans?

What about the traces… the incidents…

The footprints?

It was all sifted and sorted

all ready for the springboard;

ready for the recoil

And now?

 

I move through rooms

one by one.

The floorboards creak

I tap on shoulders,

but no one turns to look.

I move through rooms

where no one can see me –

they cannot feel me tugging at their arms.

I ask for you,

but no one turns to look.

.

http://cewinters.tumblr.com/

https://twitter.com/ce_winters

.

You can see Charlie’s first showcase on ArtiPeeps here

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