Your face is grainy
over computer screens.
I can hear the girls
in the next room.
Their voices rattling
like lost hub caps on the highway.

You say you miss me.
Ask how the high school
is holding on without you.
If I’ve lost it yet.

Its only the second week
and I want to tell you
how I still look for you in the halls,
mope like the crevice
of half a moon lacking light.

I know its light where you are.
College parties suckling
your childhood like catfish,
till the high school on your skin is mouthed clean.
Till you forget.

How long will it be before
the catfish come for me?
Before my face is too grainy
for you to remember?
Before the moon turns black.



©DelaneyMiller