This Is One Story I Thought I’d Never Tell
I didn’t think I’d get so attached, but years later here we are, teenaged hearts in adult bodies. Kisses snuck in high school stairwells became kisses given with morning breath and sleepy lips. Wondering if we’d make it over the summer turned into wondering if we’d make it after college. Your eyes live in the face of my unborn daughter and your arms wrap around me like my future sons. I read somewhere once that “whatever we are made of, he and I are the same” and I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere out there, in all of time and space and distance and physicality, we were born from the same hands. I was never one who dreamed of marriage, but I’m beginning to understand, because I would put on that white dress if it meant I got to keep you.
by Abigail Parlier
Editor’s Note: Prose poems are delicate creatures—too much and it’s exhausting to slog through all the words. Too little can be frustrating—where’s the rest of the story? But sometimes they’re just right. In this poem, the form is perfectly suited to the content.