DEP POEM
Seth’s Reflective Path
Nostalgia, Broken Promises, and Resilience
Seth stood in the bathroom mirror
buttoning his plaid collared shirt.
He scraped his neck beard off
with the razer that she slid across her
legs in a shower to a silky,
sun-kissed blush,
and he splashed his face with Escape.
The alcohol cheek burn served
Seth well before the ambers
dancing on bridges collapsed
over London and fell from the sky
like another Autumn evening
conflated its meaning.
Natalia burned him, and he returned
the favor, so she packed her bags,
and promised to return when hell
froze over, and heaven released its
traitors.
Seth studied his face in the mirror.
He moved a comb and gel through
his thick, dark hair.
He traced the lines under his eyes
and it settled in what Natalia
used to see in him back before he thought
too much about nothing at all.
What Seth couldn’t unsee,
what he’d never want to forget,
was them tangled in silky, dark orange
bedsheets with a pine
candle dancing on the oak dresser
through shadows during a thunderstorm,
and the wax melting beneath its wick.
Self-pity flashed across
his eyes before a confidence
he didn’t recognize eased into
his lips trembling with regret
and maybe it was for the best.
Seth hit the light and entered
the cream kitchen to lift the coffee
pot from its maker,
that beeped to let him know
it was ready, and he put it
on a stove burner.
Seth opened a pine cupboard,
craned his neck, shifted glasses,
and moved dishes to retrieve
a mug and shut the cabinet.
Seth hadn’t gone to the store
for days. He hadn’t done much
of anything since she left for California.
His fridge had a head of lettuce,
lunchmeat, and spoiled milk.
Seth grabbed the last six-pack
and pushed through
the balcony sliding glass door.
He set the beer on the oak table.
Seth moved to the ledge and poured
the self-destructive brew over the edge.
Emptying the cans filled his spirit
with a bubbly self-control.
Seth reached into his pocket
for a smoke.
He puffed on a cancer stick
because he had more work to fix.
A light gust brushed against Seth’s cheek
as though God himself had caressed
his face.
Seth spread his arms and leaned against
the rail. Thick, dark clouds approached.
Seth had it in him to call or text Natalia
but threw his phone across the room,
and raked his fingers through his hair,
instead of letting her win.
Seth’s thoughts drifted to Natalia
and what had become of them.
Natalia said space between them
might bring them back together.
So she left.
It wasn’t a conversation;
it was this is how it’s going to be.
And it’s how it was.
Natalia never broke a promise
she that she didn’t keep
at the last minute.
Natalia’s mind ached
heavy on his head.
Seth poured the black,
steaming coffee into the mug
with a splash of hazelnut syrup.
Seth stirred the brew
with a silver spoon
that rattled the glass
and the dark coffee lightened
like Natalia’s sun-kissed skin.
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The TV played the news.
The weatherman encouraged
umbrellas for the morning.
A breeze gathered dark clouds
for a downpour.
Seth leaned against
the large living room
bay window.
Thick clouds gathered
to conceal the looming sunrise.
Seth sipped from the cup.
The bustling city below
turned its gears
as a mighty machine
of a romantic proposal
and for deadlines to
meet dead ends,
hoping for peaceful
headlines come
this evening
but the day has yet
to have a say.
Natalia entered the living room
nude, and the day shook
off its depression.
A thunderstorm embarked
on a rant over loneliness failing
to push Natalia away from Seth.
They’d have a conversation
when hell freezes over.
(© 2024 AC)
(Amazon Kindle, Spillwords, The Writers Club)
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✍ — Published by Libby Shively McAvoy at Dancing Elephants Press. Click here for submission guidelines.
