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+school-mandated poetry: day 6 / terza rima
+2018-01-11
+
+***
+
+a pair of mismatched boots
+and hair the color of an almost-dead sky
+and eyes far kinder than any garden's shoots
+
+he said his name was Xander LaTye
+but I think we both know that piece of news is fake
+but that secret, to keep, is his and mine
+
+a level of floating platforms of concrete; in his hand a rake
+across the abyss, a train station back to the waking world
+and in his eyes, a fear that I would forsake
+
+"Say wolf," he said, "to make the platform whirl.
+Don't worry about me. I'm sure we'll meet anew."
+and I felt both his and my fingers curl
+
+and together we jumped through
+but he disappeared somewhere along the way
+and I woke up without him too
+
+when asked to describe him to the police, I wanted to say
+that his fingernails were diamonds in the rough
+and if I ever saw them again, just one more time, I'd be okay
+
+and then, several years later, when I'd grown more tough
+we met again in the lap area of the old community center pool
+and "one more time" suddenly wasn't- wouldn't ever be- enough
+
+his limbs splayed out, cheeks puffy with held-in air, water cool
+the sharp slope of the deep end crystal-clear in the water far too
+chilly
+and suddenly I realized that my hope was the mark of a fool
+
+so I kicked to the surface, goosebumps frilly
+legs spasming to be anywhere but that horrid twelve-foot deep end
+and I resolved again to never be so silly
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander