1 minute read
Gord
from TR 133.2
Gord
Brooke Collins
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Dirt roads out near Tavistock, Stompin’ Tom screams take me back
The billboard among haybills Telling us we are Loved
Sitting in a library in a city that is not mine, Struck by the knowledge that I am so alone, Yet one call away from home I light up my laptop and loop Fiddlers Green
Silhouetted against the lonely end of the rink, I am waving through netted fingers, No, focus on the game he mouths
The day he died you text me in math class Tell me it was like losing an old friend
I see your face in his I see his heart in yours