Rachelle said before disappearing forever.
I stood mute in that empty, ninth grade hallway, wondering,
Why did she pick me for this farewell warning? A school of rumors
swarmed around Rachelle: boys lined up outside her window each night,
locker room tales the next day. Now the story was Pregnant!
But when she leaned in close – small, dark pupils in her green marble eyes,
her nose long and regal, her sharp chin mouthing the words –
she was a princess forced to flee and I a frightened stable boy.
I nodded or blinked, but said nothing and since, I've seen her only
in dreams, leaning close, lips moving. I am unable to comfort her.
I have dreamed of being one of those boys outside her curtains
and one of those claiming conquest in the locker room
but I'm ashamed only of not wrapping my arm around her slender shoulder,
warming her ear with my breath, saying, Stay. We shall raise him a king!
Jack Powers is the author of Everybody’s Vaguely Familiar and has had poems in The Southern Review, The Cortland Review, Rattle, Poet Lore and elsewhere. He won the 2015 and 2012 Connecticut River Review Poetry Contests and was a finalist for the 2013 and 2014 Rattle Poetry Prizes. He recently retired from teaching special education in Redding, Connecticut. Visit his website: http://www.jackpowers13.com/poetry/.
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