Poetry
1 min
Intersection B
Arden Gifford
Intersection B had five streets
Leaving an open space in the
Middle of the commercial district,
Having to walk across the myriad
Of crosswalks mixing brick and
Asphalt below my feet.
Out of the long winter nights
Where the flakes of snow slowly
Billowed in the wind mixing in
The air platinum, creams and ambers
Reflected back onto the powdered
Roads and banks after their flight.
Behind the glass on these muted nights
A face walks by as you look back on them
Wondering if they are who you want to
Recognize before logic can take hold
Of no way they are here, at this time —
To focused on a lost reflection of a face
That has never been a could or a might.
They know I do not need this now
Like I did when I thought I was young;
The house is no longer abandoned
And I cannot keep smoke in my eyes
When I haven't seen Intersection B in so long;
I cannot stay unmoving on the floor forever,
I think I will burn up.
A Bronco Story. Submissions are from the Western Michigan University community.
We love sharing Short Stories
Select a Story Collection