The Quotable


No one said just how long

We hadn’t spoke. But we attempted

Something like speaking

At the summer music festival.

I stood by you at the base

Of the stage. Our hands, green

Leaves, our bodies, skin-salted

Stalks, mid-sway. We were tagged

With broad yellow wristbands. 

What happened 

back then? I want to ask you.

But even now you look forgotten

Like this crowd: tattooed and red,

It waits for the next song to begin.

As always, you are looking

For a place to softly fall

Onto the ground, waiting

For the hottest of days

To leave you shivering.

Subscribe or Buy

Like this piece?

Support the artist!

Share This

The Quotable Issue 3 - Transformation