Phoebe Meskill

Are We Going Up Or Down

Slowly the mind slips into disarray.

You walk up to me jauntily dressed in blue and charm, like an officer. Everything drips of swaggering. We keep our fathers in the car while we draw potato-headed people and twisting letters, and while we cry out rainbows and the tears do easy cartwheels down our cheeks.

The tree trunks stretch their veins out to the sky to capture bloody sustenance from clouds passing by majestically, like a group of whales. They twist in and out of themselves, spiraling gently towards the sun. Tremble down their trunks to see the pathways that mirror tree branch patterns, crisscrossing. Everything reflects itself in connections. We turned one way and they turned another but we all ended up together in the end. The car ride back home is like the slow climb back up the hill after rolling down and laughing the whole way.


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.