that day we almost collided. it was how we met: learning what calloused meant, as we swung from bar to bar & gained strength [in an us]. living in the same sand, we just were. calendar pages flipped; it was the days we spent together
on the monkey bars. it was where you died. there's no point euphemizing it now. the metal smelled like death, the chipped paint sounded like death. everything in that playground felt like death.
the callouses on my hands were becoming less defined, as i exfoliated with sand. you had been working on removing all the little rocks - before it happened - so that our bare feet would have the softest landing. i found the corner you started on & i could... feel you. there was a gentle wind that brought sand grains up my arm like you slid your hand up to hold my shoulder. the sand here even tasted like you: a mix of sweat & laughter.
sometimes i lay on top of the monkey bars - like we used to do, to read stories in clouds - & when the wind came, you would whisper my name. i know it was you, it had to be. no one else called me Sammy.
i started to come to the park even more often than before you died. because, here, you weren't dead.
early one morning last week, you were playing there when i arrived. i saw you. you swung from the last monkey bar, landed perfectly, then ran away like you'd been called. i yelled out your name & chased after you. but you always were a faster runner than me. it was foggy that morning: i couldn't see you anymore. the monkey bars smelled of you even stronger that day.
that wasn't the only time it happened.
yesterday there was a storm. i've never heard you call me that loudly. it must've been just the two of us. i was laying on top of the monkey bars, watching you in the sky. you were upset & missed me so much. could you hear me? i stood up & told you that i was here, that i missed you too. right at that moment, there was a huge gust of wind -
& i fell too.
Author notes
"Prompt: Callous
Guideline: No restrictions. But I do want a killer ending. No French, please."
I'm not sure if I pulled off this topic well enough. *sighs* I guess I'll see.
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Comments
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I actually have to admit - I like the opposite f what marty likes here.
Nonetheless, it was amazing.
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No French?! Now that's a challenge... Hmmm... "Callous", now one wonders, will the poet look to another for an example, or look inside... let's see what you did here... callouses on hands! Not expected, I was thinking "callous behavior", and a surprising form here, not the usual (that people love) short free verse form... so you've given yourself some added challenges here... a great yarn you've woven, a love so strong it induces voices in the head... the callouses play a bit part, however, and do not figure in the end, I don't know how that will be graded against you... now, if that girl did not fall, she was a sure candidate for the mental asylum (and that should be graded in your favor!) or at least some therapy (self or professional) to deal with those voices... (simple acceptance would do, I suppose, if discrete...)
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everything until stanza four was great. stanza four, for me, was a bit meh. 'no one else called me sammy' seemed trivial to me. stanza five kicked ass, and from there it was sort of take it or leave it to me. I will say, I started off awed and slowly came to appreciative. The start was great, and the end was okay. To me a good piece with potential for greatness. Wait a week or two, come back, and see if the muse moves you. Good job on this.
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