POEM
Love Language and Broken Promises
Seth and Beth’s Story
Seth sat on the couch,
sipping a dark beer.
A gust of separate sides
of an opinion spread
whispers between the blinds
at Seth’s lakeside home.
After college, Seth moved
to the outskirts of Seattle.
Beth said she’d follow after finishing
her master’s degree,
but so far, her hollow
words blared over a thunderstorm,
rippling a cascade of chills
through the cracked window
as groups of hundreds of drops
of rain trickled cheap thrills
down Seth’s windowpane.
Beth met Seth in an English course.
She tutored for extra credit,
and she taught him more
about love language than
Raymond Carver did.
Seth and Beth finished
each other’s sentences,
and after months of tutoring,
she asked him for a date.
Seth checked his empty schedule
and said that he could fit her in.
Beth grinned.
Beth’s parents raised her in Alabama.
She went to college in Washington State
to meet people outside her cultural bubble.
People like Seth.
The couple drove to meet her folks.
He tried, but their accent made communication
awkward for those involved.
Beth’s parents didn’t care for his Northern tone.
A Yankee — that’s what her father called Seth.
But Seth’s parents called him a rebel.
Could it be that he’d play
both sides in a Civil War?
His dreams lost sight
of the plot to save the girl
as she free fell to an all-time low.
Fear knocked on Seth’s front door.
Beth called his name as though
she had a question to reveal
by calling his bluff.
Two sides warred over a future
Seth fixed his collar, moved through the hallway,
and opened the door.
Seth sighed, “You don’t love me.”
“It isn’t true!” Beth cried.
“How can I believe you?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Beth said, pushing past him.
Beth took a flight to make this right.
(© 2024 AC)
