Stranger
Jack Litterst | August 2018
I met a stranger.
She lowered herself from the tallest treetop anywhere.
When she embraced me I almost became a missile.
I almost became water.
She held me almost too close.
Whole lives flashed past.
Romances and buried dreads.
Whole loves.
Unbearable.
She held me almost too close.
Lightning like lavender petals.
I gave up drinking.
I gave up breath.
I floated above the ground.
An inch or two, an inch or two above.
My skin was weeping like a mother at the crucible,
Like a mother at the end of the line.
I almost became a missile.
