***
Sometimes words
are like points plotted out on a graph – only in laying them out
can I find the needful pattern. Pin them down. Push the pins in all
the way. But Peter, my thumb hurts when I do that. His big, calloused
hands were better suited to the task. We were hanging maps of the
stars on the ceiling of my bedroom. I remember he promised me I could
put glow-in-the-dark stars up for every constellation I learned to
identify. I love to count, he said. I will count them all someday.
And I believed he would, his curly- headed silhouette thrust into the
starry sky. But I will spend my days with gaze downwards, bowed down
like a broken reed in these endless winter marshes.
***
© Abbey C. von Gohren and Electio Publishing, 2013-2015. All rights reserved.
2 comments:
Hooray!!!
So exciting!
Wow, that was fast! I'm so happy for you.
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