The year my father lost his job

 

I was

running

the hallways

of my

high school

all winter

to get

ready for

track season

 

I was

always either

the slowest

of the

fast kids

or the

fastest of

the slow

ones but

I didn’t

really care

about track

or who

was fastest

 

I just

didn’t want

to go

home that

year my

mother never

spoke above

a whisper

our house

was silent

as a grave

 

and I

was only

running really

just training

to get

ready

for a

future I

felt was

coming hard

and heavy

 

and certain

as the

coffin.

 

 

Old girlfriend

 

I still
remember
calling you
by phone
in the
middle of
the night
just to
hear your
voice in
high school
it was
an exquisite
kind of
pain I
sought like
God when
I was
seventeen

I thought
of this
today
as I
ignored your
friend request
again
unsure if
I wanted
to smile
or cry.