Flash in the Pan


A Quarterly Posting at Tiny Lights

We Don't Talk About It


by Amy Zimmer

Dedicated to the memory of Elfi Chester—Taken from a prompt poem given to grade 6

I am composure, unraveling

I wonder if I am worthy of your thoughts
or merely a lazy man's distraction.

I see you shirtless, absorbing warmth off Lizard Rock,
hands tucked behind your head, solicitous,
red staining the hollow of your neck where
my nervous hand fed you summer's first strawberry.

I want to close my eyes and conjure the sweet spice of
sunlight on your skin.

I am composure, unraveling

I pretend we trek out of the frame of our ordinary lives, unnoticed.

I feel you hard against me betraying the integrity of your Gramiccis
revealing the truth you've tried to push away.

I touch you and I alight with self and possibility.

I cry when the longing to claim you breaks loose
from the stronghold of my restraint.

I am composure, unraveling

I understand that there is more to attending to the heart
than the deafening peal of desire.

I say that I can let you go, but I am afraid I will
fade with your memory.

I dream of an us that is more than staccato conversations
and pantomimed intimacies.

I hope I can find that place you touch in me on my own.

I am composure, unraveling.

Amy Zimmer is teacher and mom, a wife and a human being, trying to put her essential self forth in Sebastopol, CA.

Fifth Flash


Hold by Barbara Spicer
Smell Of Rubber by Tony Johnson
The Sins Of The Father by Glenn Mccrea
Punctuation by Kate Willens
Drawn To The Light by Suzanne R. Thurman
Le Pilier (the Pier) by Julian Lindemuth
River by Leslie Curchack
Party Time by Viola Hargadine
Rules by Terry Law
New Moon by Diane Larae Bodach
Hearing Colors by Armand Gelpi


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