Prisms

 

 

Meet me               

   here         in knots of prep school

                   plaid that nick

 

            ankles. Peel back

            the shade, our silhouette, gossamer

 

                 streetlight roams. Let the moon howl

                in my ear.  I am your tigress, your vaporizer

 

                       that you drag, drifting in your words’

           swell until you                                         hush. It’s when

      

             you say, all that love,                                  all those times

they looked into each other. That’s you,

 

                      I sway,              we sway.  Say it

 

again. You are the sound the wind makes when it    sieves

                       through the screen. 

 

 

Riley Ward is an undergraduate at Salisbury University. This is her first publication.

 

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