Some things are better off lost,
some people best not found, like the girl I met,
just 19, sitting by a pond in Ohio,
whose hands fit perfectly into mine.
Her brown eyes led down an abyss
and I followed, craving that chaos,
mysterious and raw like a secret.
She showed me a different way to touch.
But when she didn’t get her way
she bolted her room, broke bottles, mirrors
and every other fragile thing. Cops took her
and twice I bailed her out.
She dressed sloppy, didn’t brush her hair,
took showers twice a day.
I brought her home and everyone sensed it.
Something’s wrong with that girl.
One June we drove to the Golden Gate,
slept in a crash pad, got stoned
every night until she stopped showing up.
I figured she was dead or in jail.
Years later when she found me on the web,
I’d forgotten her last name,
just remembered that tumbling in my gut,
her flaming hair, alluring mouth.
Maybe I understood that part
she kept trying to wash away, because
something inside me
wanted to break everything, too.
SHELLEY SAVREN’S book, The Common Fire, was published by Red Hen Press in 2004. Her book, The Wild Shine of Oranges will be released by Tebot Bach Press in fall 2012. She holds an M.F.A. from Antioch University Los Angeles, and her work is widely published in literary magazines, including Solo, Rattle, and Prairie Schooner. Her awards include nine California Arts Council Artist in Residence grants, three National Endowment for the Arts regional grants, five artist fellowships from the City of Ventura, first place in the 1994 John David Johnson Memorial Poetry Award and a nomination for a Pushcart Prize. She lives in Ventura, California and is a full-time English Professor at Oxnard College.
