CHRISTOPHER MCKITTERICK

the eight years and your lifetime chase


I remember chasing you
through cornfields
of sun-tanned hands clapping
their excitement in the late summer breeze
chasing you
running after your footprints
down soft dark earth rows
channels between green and golden rows
the clapping audience
chasing after you I ran
fingers remembering your hair
loving your skin
my body softly moving swiftly
through the hard yet yielding corn
and you
following you
remembering your closeness all those nights
when we chased lonely away beneath misty-breath stars
that unashamedly watched our sensual poetry
our moving together
chasing after you
my breath coming in long difficult strands
like sweet and heavy corn breath
chasing you
legs remembering your legs
and stiffening in their tired relaxation
chasing your eyes
which enfolded my eyes and body
like I was yours
inside you
inside those dark dark eyes
darker than the soil beneath my sinking feet
chasing you
closer
and my lips felt sharp husks slap
slap and caress
like your father
and physical manifestations of anger
I remember how your eyes would sometimes seep quiet
your lips full of water from those darknesses of eyes
my lips reaching into your softness and warmth
stop the watering
keep the hot burning eyes from hot burning suns
stop
stop chasing
chasing you
my feet forgot
my legs grew heavy
my ribs crushed sharp in upon my heart
and my fingers grew sore from all these rows of slaps

so I find myself eight years away
hundreds of miles away
from even that hole in the earth where you lie
millions of depths of corn rows away
but my fingers still remember.

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