Kitoba Dot Com

Ellie Hastings

1. we found the hill.... (by Ellie Hastings)

   We found the hill, the sepia stones,
   hard edges still damp with the ache of winter.
   Gold-rimmed afternoon, almost too late for starting out
   with our packs resurrected from disuse, musty
   as old manuscripts. We peeled away the layers
   of our clothing as they grew damp, and my lips
   sucked icy water from the bottle you held.
   I tasted dust on your fingertips, rough
   as bark, gripping the rocks that bruised us.
   The mystery of altitude, the changing weather
   as we climbed. Snow dripped from the newborn leaves
   and glistened on our bodies like sweat.
   The sky fled upwards.
   How I touched you, again and again.

2. beneath slick sheets.... (by Ellie Hastings)

   Beneath slick sheets his bones have begun to fray.
   Deep lies decay, thick as kudzu, the foreign seed
   that smothers. The tenebrous earth awaits the blood.
   To what end? The pain hums against his sleep.
   Do you hear it through the walls?
   Once you were small, and he was sturdy.
   Your softest whimpers could in a moment unbolt him
   from his bed. Now you keep his vigil in the lamplight
   and count the hours with half-smoked cigarettes.
   The right words and the regrets are tangled like briars
   on the banks of dark waters that seep past our end.
   Wine in your forgotten glass long since gone sour.