text mode CrossConnect previous next

Home
Issue Contents
Contributors
E-mail Us
   c h l o e    a t    d u s k

--- C O R E Y   M E S L E R

 
Even before it’s quite dark enough
Chloe comes to me with wide eyes
and anticipation.  It’s time to
catch lightning bugs, she tells me,
as if for the first time.
Together we go out into the gloaming,
the sky the tint of a frying pan,
the front porch an oasis of 
between-world calm.  Chloe hurries
down the steps and looks about her,
spinning madly.  They’re all
around us, she says, and I imagine
she is right.  But, for now,
from this vantage point, higher up and
further away, I see nothing.
Only the putty colored air
and Chloe, her dress a whirly, dancing.

© crossconnect, inc 1995-2004 |
published in association with the |
university of pennsylvania's kelly writers house |