Long Distance Between You and Me

 

A fissure appears in the yard

as we talk after having not talked

these years. Two of the earth's plates

are parting. I see the rift widen

as you recount to me shared scenes:

the countryside ride where I couldn't

control my mount, the fall we parted

like leaves leave the limb, you say,

but how close we were, and laugh,

almost like lovers. The telephone pole

topples into the breach, dragging the

stretched line. You appear, back to me,

phone grasped in hand. I feel a pull

on the line, hesitate for a heartbeat…

then, let go.

 

 

 

 

Geordie de Boer lives in Washington State across from Idaho and close by the Snake River. “He's been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn and a king" and received a MCP at the University of Oregon, which has allowed him to be those many things.