my first publication

Awhile ago I sent off a few of my poems to a literary magazine at my school. I did not question whether or not they would be published but sent them as a first step into the wondrous world of rejection. On the day I sent them off I sat down and proceeded to write a letter to Denny, my best friend in high school who passed away when we were 16. As I was collecting the poems to be sent off I threw in the letter as an afterthought. Oddly enough the letter has been selected for publication in the magazine. Because it is officially copyrighted now I am going to post it on my blog.




A letter to Denny 12/05/85-04/24/02


It has been four years since you’ve passed.
I live in the city now.
It is always bright here.
Lights are always shining in my eyes.

It was raining the week before you passed and the roads to your house flooded.
You had two strokes or you would have seen the rain too.
Maybe you did.
My mother and I had to walk a few miles to reach your mother.
She was alone. Her house was filled with strangers but the room where your mother sat was empty. I walked over to her and put my arms around her and touched her hair the way you would have.
She smelled bitter and the ashes from her cigarettes speckled her face and hair.
I could hear surrender in her breathing.
Her spark never returned. It caught fire and ravaged her bones.
She died a year after you.
The doctors said it was bone cancer but I knew better.
The grief metastasized and ate her up.
After she passed your sister and brother moved away.
They are orphans. I no longer know them.
Before they moved someone set fire to your house.
Your prom dress was in there.

I learned to drive and my grandfather bought me a brand new car.
I drove to the top of your hill and waited for you.
You never came.
I graduated high school. When they called the names I kept waiting to hear yours.
It was never called.
I went on my first date after starting college. He picked me up in his beat up car and took me out to dinner.
At the end of the night he kissed me. My first kiss.
I raced up the stairs to my apartment and picked up my phone to call you.
I must have dialed the wrong number because it was disconnected.
It didn’t matter though. I made popcorn and talked out loud while I ate.
Did you hear me?

My grandfather is gone now. The last word I heard him say was, “help” but it was too late.
The house I grew up in is gone. The trees are gone too. Hermit’s Holler has been raped and its bosom still leaks milk.
The whippoorwills will cry,
“give me room, give me room”, until there isn’t any space left.
It’s someone else’s private property now.
I’m not allowed to kick the rocks and touch the ground I touched for 18 years.

When I hear other girls whisper and giggle it takes every particle of my strength not to dissolve.
I am jealous. Their laughter and words should be ours.

I will be graduating in two years. I will buy two hats to toss in the air.
I will throw yours first.
I wrote my first concrete poem and it startled me.
The words took the shape of you.
I have grown smaller since you saw me last. I lost the weight of my depression and now wear the lip gloss you put down when your lips turned cold.

I take walks with my dog and fiancée and tell them stories about the years you and I were blessed with.
When I have kids I will tell them these stories too. They will know who you are.
Your pictures will never be taken down and put away.

It is hard to move on.
I have been moving on for four years.
I am moving past your death.
I take you with me.