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“Visiting Hours” A Poem By Jonathan Rowe ’18

By the leaping dance of lake water

we wrote our future in the air.

Silence doesn’t show itself in a vacuum;

it must be fashioned & embraced.

We built this stillness, sitting before

a peeled crimson porch, trees dressed

in bark brown & mint green, a fish carried

up & under, torn open from within. I wondered then

if you knew or cared, as you sat in a wheelchair

& brace, that I spent last night with your best friend;

as if the pain of injury was death enough at age 18.

 

Jonathan Rowe ’18

Posted by on March 20, 2017. Filed under The Week's End. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. Both comments and pings are currently closed.