Dead

April Web Feature by Carson Pytell

Dead

My heart breaks for you,

who was so young

when my name was often heard

just outside the library doors,

whose smile was a spotlight

and voice a cotton load lifted but

for that and some weekend laughter

I was sometimes close enough to hear,

the voice I’d never,

as a hand, have made raise

lest for that again

and all the laughter.

You were so young.

I was too young to act

on knowing you have to do more

than just smile back.

The distances between a voice,

dumb ears, something and nothing;

a fissure between you, myself,

steps from those automatic doors.

My heart breaks for you,

just over the water, no earshot,

silent, warm and comfortable in bed, having made another’s.