SEVEN


The wilderness lay twenty feet
behind the trees and bushes
ahead of Judson and me.
A quilt of leaves, and petals, and branches
spread across the forest,
shading the worn dirt path.
But with our Fisher Price walkie-talkies
and boots with canyon-deep treads ready,
we set out into the wild.
The dangers of Black Widow Spiders,
and Copperhead Snakes, or even Berniece Simon,
the red-haired, freckle-girl
never entered our minds.
We were seven, and afraid of nothing.

WITHOUT YOU
for Jennifer


The seat is a hole without you.
Halogens are revealing
night's secrets, peeling back
its rock to show what's beneath.
And evening's crawlers stir
beneath the stippled cloak.
The dotted dashes streak together
to form a line - inseparable.
With my blinks and dozed jerks
in the dwindling hours of Sunday's cowl
you visit from the inside of tired eyelids.
Your smile is trapped in their lining.
Tickling reflectors on a lonely road
the Firestones remind me to keep a lane.
And a tape plays on its deck
an etched chocolate ribbon
whose tones resound you.
And the stars cry for you.
And the night, like you, is everywhere.

All work Copyright ©1998 by Dennis Cheatham