Impression,
by Cassie Clark Dutton
yes I left my hand prints all over this place
Whether it was the night we spent
letting out body’s make imprints
on the emerald green couch
and on eachother
Or the hundred times after that
my eyes scoured that time
That spot
the door you held open
the place that heard the words you said
The wind that stole away
hot air from my open mouth
The stars that watched us run
like the world was ending
The mailboxes that stood
their stoic stakeout
recording our hand in hand trek
to the dark back seat of an SUV
Swings that groaned against
the centripetal tugging weight
of young bodies
begging, unwisely
faster! higher!
Sweaty metallic smelling chains
indented with the strength
and vitality of a grip
from hands that held to them
with all the sadness and joy and trepidation
of their rapidly expanding universes
Afternoons to evenings
stretched like constellations
under the leaves
that would absorb the pink-orange
of the sun that day
along with our raucous laughter
along with the look in your eye
