My friend Ryan Stone has a poem in the August issue of Red River Review. I’ll reprint the poem as well as links both to his blog, Days of Stone, and to the journal. Many fine poems on both venues.
Although science, with clinical wisdom
declared her not yet a person,
a heartbeat argued defiantly
for a night.
We visit the cemetery —
hands entwined, minds
in different hemispheres,
hearts mangled. In a quiet corner
where the sun lingers late in summer,
where gelid moans soften in winter,
we become broken pieces
of something once much stronger.
– Ryan Stone
photo courtesy of Jikoman
One drunken night he lay on the coach road and she lay beside him.
“The Weight” is by my friend Ryan Stone who lives in Melbourne, Australia. More of his fine poetry can be found at Days of Stone.
One drunken night, he lay on the coach road
and she lay beside him. He pictured a truck
descending – wobbling around corners,
gaining momentum. They spoke about crushes,
first kisses. He told her of an older woman
who’d stolen a thing he couldn’t replace.
He tried to describe the weight of lost things.
She listened until he stopped,
until I stopped
hiding behind he. I felt small,
watching the cosmos churn
while I lay on the coach road
one summer night, speaking
of big things
First published in Algebra of Owls
Photo: “Fairie Lights on the Dark Road”
by Faustus Faunus
PS New prompts are up on the Prompts page.