The Day, Emily Rascher

104 THE DAY

Emily Rascher

The rubber back of my rain boot rubbed a hole through my sock and then my skin as we walked Downtown is most beautiful in the rain The steady stream of runoff whispering to the gutter I can’t remember if my cheeks were more wet from rain or the pain in my heart I heard you say you didn’t want to be with me and Then an audible bone-like snap from my chest

Or was it in the sunshine? While we drank in the coffee and the colorful leaves The hard back of my tennis shoe rubbing a hole through my sock and then my skin as we walked The river is most beautiful in the sunshine Your cold tone a mere breeze whispering through the bright leaves I heard you say you didn’t want to be with me and The sun suddenly could not warm my chattering bones

I remember now—we were in a bookstore A local one with tall shelves and rolling ladders Bookshops are most beautiful when full of whispering customers The worn back of my converse rubbing a hole through my sock and then my skin as we walked Weaving our way from aisle to aisle Stopping at the poetry shelf— I remember this now Because after the crime, I remember thinking, “Seems right”—

You reached over my head to grab a book my fingers couldn’t quite reach I heard you say you didn’t want to be with me and The letters I was reading suddenly turned into shapes I couldn’t decipher

No, it was at the beach at sunset It was in the checkout line of a grocery store It was at a basketball game as the clock ticked to zero It was in a theatre after the show And all I have left Is a single sock with a hole worn through And the whisper of a fractured truth