a poem from a boy in high school
is there anything better than being subject,
muse?
I found a poem today, handwritten, in pencil,
folded up and
into a book thirty years ago, seven after I found it
in my desk at Westside High School, a desk I shared
with a boy I deflowered.
I like knowing I left a mark,
that the “warmth and long blonde hair” is me,
that I didn’t lead him anywhere
except to himself.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
Intrusive rhyme bothers me, except as a weapon.
Intertextuality is my passion.
Formalist/ New Critical are my guiding theories.
My words are mine, not a robot’s.
MA English literature, CofC
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.