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“By the Pond” Sitting by the pond
Feet drowning in water
The ripples flowing between their toes
Lines on the face
Taking the shape of a smile
They laugh
It feels nice, comforting
An escape
Water always did seem open
Free sailing to a new reality
Forget the soil you’ve fertilized
But somehow the dirt stays under the nails “Cross the sacrificial bridge with me” He used to say when they were younger
Thinking he was poetical and cute
While a being began to beat inside her
She turns her head toward the stroller
That being is still asleep
Unaware of the difference in the wind
A warm day, no sweat
She begins to think of the rain
While Meursault’s sun beats down
They do not tread in the rain
No moments of laughter by the pond
Are they ruled by symbolism?
Must nature’s light be theirs as well?
A hand touches hers
Cracked and diluted by cinder blocks
A “man’s” trade, his father said
She remembers them with pen in hand
A softness that matched her own
And words that didn’t translate to financial security
But she smiles
A kind gesture to show his care
Or a reflex of expectation
The grand scheme says a year and a half is nothing
Just the tick of a second on the clock
But how their world has spun around this time
Gone so fast but present so viciously
Reminding of fate and destiny
Diaper changes and uninspired love making
He kisses her cheek
“I never regret crossing that bridge” She smiles, maybe he means it
The warmth does feel nice
Maybe there’s truth in the weather
They stand clumsily from the water
Pond scum sticking to their feet
Wiped onto the soil
But still under the nails
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