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