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.