Nocturne

Spinal poem-end words of each line form a vertical line of poetry-a poem within a poem

Nocturne



he was blonde and i was not—we shared beyond

our means—a coke—a bag of chips—even the

last of my quarters on the final round—glorying over dying

foes—mourning when we lost—we strode under the moon

our shadows touched—but we never did—as we practiced lies

for being out late—jasmine faintly chased our midnight

steps echoed off the pavement—at home Mom offered tender

scoldings ignored as i sauntered toward trysts

with my fist—Monday comes and on a satin

morning he began observing certain girls in solemn whispers

i nodded and smiled remembering cinnamon

toast—we parted after band—Dawn wore a delicate orange

scent all the boys noticed the deafening peals

of the school bell obscured the conversations of

milling teens—in history someone quipped and laughter

lapped into the halls—met him after practice—night falling—

he's an athlete –i'm not—he focused on shots while i gushed over meteors

and chess—when i got home my sister went to a baby shower

then i had to watch my brother—i got bored after

an hour of television—so i called him—cuddling

the phone while we shared our only interest—the game—then pillows

rained upon me and my brother scuttled away—he continued to talk

oblivious while i chased my brother—our conversation sort of

petered out so i brought up the game again and our dreams

of killing the big boss—a little death for history—a thing beyond

our paisley afternoons at the arcade feeding quarters into the

greedy machine—he confided in me and did not see hope dying

as he finally says that he thinks he loves Dawn