After I waved and you said hi
I could not return
to that spot
in Florida and undo
our meeting.
If I tucked it in my pocket
as you strode toward me
through sun-streaked grass
would you have noticed?
If I hid it behind my back
as you passed the wooden picnic table
would you have taken it?
I could have made different choices
is not the excuse offered
when we come up empty handed
after digging through a box of treasures.
If only and
it would still be mine
like in grade school
when someone snatches your pencil
and you say That’s mine
I could say That’s mine
assured what is mine stays
mine like the ability to dream.
Except now it belongs to you
all the pages of my favorite book
you possess it whole.
No one asks
Where did this come from?
the surprise behind the curtain
Why do you have it?
placing the burden
of speaking on me.
Once named
will it lift off your hand
and float back to me?
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 28, Issue 1.
Moriah Hampton teaches in the Writing and Critical Inquiry Program at SUNY-Albany. Her fiction, poetry, and photography have appeared in The Coachella Review, Typehouse Literary Magazine, Ponder Review, Gargoyle Magazine, Hamilton Stone Review, and elsewhere. Originally from the Southeast, she has Scottish and English ancestry and is a citizen of the Cherokee Nation.
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