EXULTATION
The couple at the park had a little girl, who ran in constant little circles.
Her parents watched and played with her, and sometimes looked at us
though not nearly as often as I looked at them.
The couple contemplated us as we sat together, leaned together
as I gave her my coat.
We were not a couple
but we were young and happy, and
I think they saw my pendant swing forward, glinting in evening light
a scrawled and messy rainbow.
So they looked at us more warmly and spoke to us
and their little girl ran around us in gleaming, dizzying
circles.
Her laughter shone like light on the sea.
There was nothing out of the ordinary about them
besides what was out of the ordinary about them
they did not wear pride shirts or have rainbows painted on their skin.
It was just a Saturday at the park, what was I expecting?
They were just being.
I still could not tear my eyes away.
I had forgotten
in my home where secrets tugged at my navel, like
a ship determined to anchor itself to the bottom of the ocean,
that some of us were just being.
In my mind's eye I can still see that sky rinsed pink
her clouds outlined in fragile ribbons of fire
In my mind's eye I can still see that little girl's feet striking the earth
running in circles
running all the time.
By A. Morneau
Biography:
Alison Morneau is a twenty-five-year-old writer from Ontario, Canada. She moved to Wales in 2022 with a suitcase of her favourite books, and currently works as a nonfiction editor. She writes both fiction and nonfiction with a particular draw to horror and poetry.
No comments:
Post a Comment