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black & white photo’s lay at my feet
a past filled with indiscretions
censored by the FCC
i’d lick my wounds
but i don’t have the reach
we met up in high school
out back by the bleachers
on the football practice field
we kissed without precision
but your fingers knew the way
i aged a thousand years
there, before the sun
on and off those four long years
i’d cross the tracks each night
to knock at your back door
we’d roll around in whispers
fearless in the dark
once you said, i love you
but there’s no return address
i used to carry that note
in the folds of my senior yearbook
(i sold most of my memories
at a yard sale in ’93)
you died six days before graduation
six days before i wanted to say
i love you
the driver of the truck said
he did not see you
an obvious lie
i held you in my arms
as you lay dying
no more words to be shared
the tears ran down my skin
and burned the flesh
the cops and courts
let the killer off
but he would not escape my justices
death in a dark alley
at the ends of my fists
now in my age, i sit waiting
consequence and clarification
i hold the past so closely
i can’t seem to let it go
in my head i see you laughing
yet i could not say i love you
the memories never drown out
and the photo’s never burn
copyright 2008
Jack
Henry |
