rubber band
an old poem about rekindled friendship
Soft intertwined fingers, sipping sweet, 2 euro wine,
between thin walls of a Spanish apartment; fifth floor, no elevator.
I’ll hold our glass, so you may hold my hand,
and you’ll uncross your legs so I may rest my head.
Finally rekindling ourselves from our split at fifteen,
sanctioning suffering to one another, each pulling taut a prescribed rubber band,
snapping our thin skin calloused.
An anti-seesaw, for every step back, we tightened with silent tension.
Within the glass walls of your Spanish apartment, we were close enough at last
for the tension to release, our rubber band to loosen,
and for me to slip it over your wrist, and return your wine glass to your hand.
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