The Hill
She laughs.
And the wind runs
through the blades of grass,
combing the fragile locks
back
and
forth.
The hill isn’t all that steep,
but she is in a rush to get down,
a rush to feel the speed.
And as she tumbles down
He smiles.
He quickly falls to his knees,
eager to follow.
And when he finally reaches the end of the rush,
she is there.
Waiting.
And smiling.
And he wishes that he could draw.
Wishes that he could paint.
Wishes that he could somehow capture
this moment,
her face,
her joy
Forever.
But this memory of his will have to do.
And he does his best then
To trace the lines of her face.
To remember. . .
And she laughs.
And he knows
This is all he ever needed
This is all he ever wanted
And she is
Everything
Unpublished work © September 12, 2006 Tori Talamonti
Ghost
I walked down the path with them
ambling nowhere fast
simply enjoying the company.
They joke with each other
laughing at each other’s expense
not minding in the slightest.
I can’t believe you drove all--
Did you just spit on me?
And we all have a good laugh
and I pull a little closer
hunched against the outside world
content in my sense of wholeness.
It all passes through me
through this misty body.
I am a ghost
drifting about.
They don’t pay much attention to me
but I don’t mind.
They’re not supposed to.
Ghosts are difficult to see
and I do this on purpose.
Then his arm encircles her waist
and she laughs
resting her head on his shoulder.
And at the look in her eyes
the one that says it is only them in their world
my shell cracks.
I feel
in a sudden weight upon my chest
distinctly tangible
and I know that they have turned me into this
pale reflection of a human being.
In my desperation to hide
I succumbed to it
because what can hurt a ghost?
But it was just a brief escape
and there is no peace in it
Ever.
Unpublished work © November 9, 2006 Tori Talamonti