The moon has already wrapped itself in silver clouds; the branches of the bared canopies, like sooty filigree, are skeletal hands waving in the mournful breeze.
An owl hoots. I have never seen your scars, but at night they moan like that.
You have been watching the gutless branches since sunset with the pressure from the old swing against your thighs building, bringing back childhood memories:
Your mother’s stern face, the craving breath of your father reeking with booze and cigarettes, your shameful silence.
You left only coming back for headstones, to face them when your secrets have ceased to matter.
You are at the crossroad; either take the noose they left behind or kill him like you should have done when it mattered.
Then you will love again the stranger who was your self and you might even fall in love with me.
Today it is time for Kim to host Prosery at dVerse. Our own new prompt where you dear poet write flash fiction using maximum 144 words and include the given line from a poem.
This week the line is “you will love again the stranger who was your self” from Derek Walcott’s poem Love after Love.
August 20, 2019