a sestina poem

Do you remember when we ran

on shingled rooftops and snuck

past the windows so no one

would see? We’d watch the stars

as if they might move at any moment.

The stars still glow but the shingles have gone.

That old rope in the barn is gone

now too. Once, we swung and we ran

as if there was no ground. In that moment

I’m not sure there was. We snuck

away from reality and drifted like stars

that never had to be anything or anyone.

I think we both knew one

day that we would be gone,

just a few memories among a million stars.

Our running became “we ran”

and our sneaking became “we snuck”.

The momentum of each moment

slowed to a crawl. Every moment

dissolved into distant memories of one.

We thought maybe if we snuck

past time, nothing would be gone.

That if we just ran and ran

we could outrun the stars,

though, the seemingly eternal stars

never had to run. Their moment

was indefinite. And yet, some ran.

We saw them streak across our sky one

night, and then they were gone.

So we followed, we snuck

past the windows and we snuck

beneath the sky like those stars,

following a trail long gone

cold. Then that became a moment,

and those memories slipped away one by one.

We ran and we ran and we ran.

We snuck and we snuck and we snuck,

past each memory and past each moment.

We fell like shooting stars,

until we both became someone

with memories gone,

not quite sure if they ever ran.

just a guy writing some sad poetry