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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN#/ISBN# issue/book “Forbidden” cc&d, v276 (the October 2017 issue) Order this as a 6"x9" paperback book:

Order this writing in the book the 2018 literary review date book (the 2017 poetry, flash fiction and artwork weekly paperback book)		get the 146 page poem, flash fiction & art weekly planner as a 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Order this writing in the issue book Language of Untamed Spirit the cc&d Sept.-Dec.2017 collection book		get the 4 page May-August 2017 cc&d magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Forbidden

Brady Peterson

In a crowded elevator, your hand
touches my hip and lingers long enough
for me to take note, then you drop it to your side.
A sweet indiscretion, a moment never really
repeated, the narrative lost in circumstance,
the confusion of memory and desire—

It’s raining again today—after years of drought,
it rains and rains. The lake is swollen—beautiful
though threatening. Thunder rumbles. We live
on high ground—lightening strikes are common.
But we will not drown here.

Still, I feel I am under water—deep.

We meet at a coffee shop and talk about poetry
and lovers, about sitting in a parking lot
when a cop taps on the car window and asks
for IDs. What are you doing here, in official tones.
Just talking. Is that okay with you, you snap back.

I’m impressed with the audacity of your response.
Is that okay with you—not asking permission,
not even close. We sip our coffee, and you confess
you don’t remember the incident. You, on the other hand
remember everything, you say slightly annoyed.

That was just something that happened
a long time ago. I sip my coffee, looking at my cup—
my hands. Fragile clay, I mutter to the table.
What—nothing. The coffee shop now distant,
and it is raining.

 

This poem also appears in the Brady Peterson book From an Upstairs Window.

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