15/30 Winter

Years ago I hid behind my fear

let you float away from me.

Brown eyes and lips so full

they pleaded for acceptance

my fear refused to set my tongue free.

So I watched you go, made sure to cut all ties.

It was the only way to protect my heart from you.

The potential devastation was too much for me to step into.

I still mourn you in winter when the cold creeps in

you are the chill in the room.

The silver box, a gift given to me by an uncle

who convinced me that what ever dream I place inside

Would come true.

The same uncle who on Christmas Eve

Broadcasted Santa's demise

a crashed into the Gateway Arch,

The Saint Louis side.

When he spoke of dreams though,

his eyes held that wicked gleam

so I believed when he said,

"You can't go looking for it,"

he warned,

"it will find you when you least expect it.

Just speak the dream into the box and wait.

Dreams like to surprise you when they come true."

I believed him until I was ten.

The year I turned ten a boy I liked died.

He went fishing with his father and his father,'s father,

he was the only one not wearing a lifejacket

when the boat capsized.

I had never been to a funeral before,

never dreamed the young

could die so young.

His dreams would never come true

whether he placed them in my silver box

or the box that would be his home

underground.

I had a turtle named Snapper.

I know cleaver. His carapace,

a smooth green with yellow stripes.

It was the first pet I had that was considered my own.

I never let him mingle with the family pets, I

afraid the dog would eat him

while the cat could care less.

I'm pretty sure the cat believed us to be his pets.

I took him to show and tell once.

The bully boy in my class

poked him with a pencil.

I jumped on him.

Won my first fight

ruined his bully career at the same time.

My turtle died three days later.

My classmates made an altar for him.

The former bully brought me a snicker bar

every day for a month

a form of apology.

In my childhood neighborhood

there was a dog fenced at the corner house.

He barked and charged the fence

anytime anyone came near.

His growls would appear in dreams some nights.

One day, after serving detention,

walking home from school

sure that my troubles were just beginning

I barked back at the dog

then kicked the fence to prove my fierceness.

My eyes bulged wide as he stopped mid bark

as we both watched the fence slowly creak open.

I was running before I knew it.

He chased and barked.

Fumbling for my key I tripped up the stairs

leading to my safety.

Knocked the air out  of my lungs

lay sprawled on my front porch.

The growling dog stood over me

I waited for the bite,

he seemed to smile

licked my face

trotted away.

I cried for hours after.

I replayed my terror

still feared the dog

crossed the street whenever I had to pass

that house

sure that the next time he

would not hesitate to bite.

When she called me a mermaid

I felt powerful

like my breath would always be in my body

in or out of water.

I found a mermaid charm

sewed her into my hair to remind myself

I can swim anywhere.

It reminds me of her on the days that I twist my locs,

or when it passes my eye,

or on any Tuesday in winter.

A sure sign I'm nervous is if I twist my rings,

or talk too fast,

or walk, or sing,

or breathe, or eat apples,

or clean my car, or write a poem,

or, or, or.

Basically I'm always nervous

I believe it's because I care.

I still have the silver box.

And while I do not believe it makes dreams come true,

I place my heart inside in hopes that if it ever finds

brown eyes or full lips,

or the memories of a dead boy

maybe when I find the love

I long to give

my heart to in the open.

I will let my future lover find it.

Which means,

I will put it in her path.

We will open it together

I will no longer be hidden.

Maybe it will happen on a Tuesday

in winter.