Poetry

Flight of Fear

Written by: Katrina Fugate

We headed straight for “Flight of Fear”

as soon as we entered the park.

We lay on our stomachs,

latched into the man-made machine

which released us from its jaws

from the steepest of heights.

After all, we had nothing to fear.

 

In a few days, Jeremy would be gone,

a gift for Uncle Sam.

In a few days, I’d have to imagine him saying

“Derka” to me, which is French for “You’re an idiot.”

His lack of brotherly annoyances would transform into

a permanent rollercoaster plunge in my gut.

 

The next time my baby brother and I would be together,

he’d be a man in uniform,

returning from Iraq,

because you can only procrastinate adulthood for so long.

 

So we stayed until the park closed,

riding roller coasters to say good-bye,

friendly fireworks signaling the end of a moment,

“Carpe Diem” bursting in our hearts,

only fearing the loss of each other.

 

 

Country Song

Written by: Katrina Fugate

 

Lost in sorrow for so long

like a country song:

a record skipping.

Each melody is 

different and yet the same:

beautiful but oh so

wasteful.

 

A wanting, a forgotten longing,

Of the abused, of the abandoned:

all betrayed.

 

A neglectful use of my life,

but the sweetest tune of a mandolin. 

 

 

Two Hearts

Written by: Katrina Fugate

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Her heart hardened long ago.

A dried up, crusted over

Onion, seeping.

 

Mine.

A warm tomato

With tough skin, punctured

So goodness flows out.

 

 

 

Jeans

Written by: Katrina Fugate

 

When I was a teenager, my favorite pair of jeans were size 7 with a Guess logo. 

They hugged my hips, and shaped me into a woman.

I saved them for Friday night football games.

And, sometimes, when he threw a rock at my window at 2 am

I’d pull them from the rumpled ball of clothes off my floor.

Stretched out from earlier, I didn’t even have to unbutton them.

 

As we cuddled in the back of his truck, the sprinkles of rain

Fell on our eyelashes, and we kissed.

The rain must have washed away the fear of being caught,

‘Cause I woke with his hand in my back pocket.

 

My girlfriends and I didn’t notice that time had passed.

We were eating Doritos and watching MTV

When, a year later, the AM Vets box Mom left on the front porch

carried those jeans off for someone else to love.

The denim jostled silently as the truck reversed out of the driveway.

 
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