By Joann Zhang


Remember when I snuck to your

house? It was at the breast

of summer. You took

me to the top of a hill whose

other half had crumbled for

a thin road at the heels of the sun.

The silhouette of a broken telephone line

immolated against the sunset like the lone grave

marker of a king. We tried

to stay, but the cold

got to us. In the dim

flicker of streetlamps we raced home

his shadow waxing and waning

till he was too far ahead to see.

Zhang is the creator of LoveNote Poetry

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