Waterfall Moments
If it were possible
I would have lived in that moment.
I would have folded my shirts,
Bought new socks
Packed my bags
And crawled inside the breath in your lungs while you slept beside me.
I would have stretched out seconds
to memorize the cracks and callouses in your hands,
the way they traced my face, neck, chest.
I hate being touched.
But your skin was the softest blanket I have ever known.
I could have survived off the way your fingers knotted my hair
so that it took two palm fulls of conditioner just to straighten the tangles again.
But I could have lived off it.
I wish it were possible to stay on the bridge overlooking the waterfall,
your arms around me
my back against to you.
You said you missed me,
And I closed my eyes to better feel your body pressed to mine.
I could have taken these moments like my favorite order at the best restaurant,
and fed off them the rest of my life.
But time loosened your grip on my hand,
And the waterfall continues to move
Like we were never there at all.
Lynne Schmidt (she/her) is a mental health professional in Maine. Her unpublished memoir, The Right to Live: A Memoir of Abortion has received Maine Nonfiction Award and was a 2018 PNWA finalist, while her poetry has received the Editor's Choice Award for her poem, Baxter, from Frost Meadow Review, and her chapbook, Dead Dog Poems, was honorable mention from Pub House Books. Her work has appeared in Soft Cartel, RESIST/RECLAIM, Royal Rose, Maine Dog Magazine, Alyss Literary, Her Kind Vida, and others. When given the choice, Lynne prefers the company of her three dogs and one cat to humans.
Twitter: @LynneSchmidt @Abortion Chat
Facebook: Lynn(e) Schmidt
Comments