A Little Death

March 4, 2017


Do you remember how as kids
we used to lie in summer grass
among the dandelions, paint milky sap
on arms and legs in shaky
patterns, and how I
dared you taste its bitterness?

And how you faked agony and
death with such proficiency that when your
jerking body stilled at last I cried
to God that I’d do anything
to get you back, held you in my child’s arms,
my tears on your face,
and cried again to find you were alive.

And how, years later, we lay in
summer grass, and you held me,
among the ghosts of yellow flowers.

Nell Grey
(first published in Littoral Magazine, spring 2006 )

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