they hiked to a secret place,
if you can call a forest pool
known to all the kids in town
“secret,”
in the fleeting heat of summer
the still, deep pool appeared
unexpectedly
amid rapids and gnarling
forest branches
creatively dubbed
“hot rocks”
for obvious reasons
some generations before
it was a lazy summer sport,
hiking with beer
throwing down wet bodies
onto hot rocks
or each other
jumping into the frigid water,
laughter and screams through the quiet rainforest
until Jesse jumped
diabetic Jesse who was drunk
like the rest of them
and his mortal, adolescent heart
just stopped
searing this memory
ever after
of CPR and sweat
and the twins screaming
Jesse Jesse Jesse
there were no cell phones then
only miles to run hauling
ghost Jesse
to the beat-up pickup
and then the loss
of time
fast forward to
Sophie dressed in black
without crying,
reading poetry
for Jesse
her first love
not knowing how my heart broke
for her,
my own first love,
how I had always wished
to be Jesse
1SageFemme 2017 All Rights Reserved
Of maidens, mothers, and crones; a life in poetry, unfinished 