Fifteen Septembers

For the past 15 Septembers
I’ve watched green leaves
fall from my limbs
and turn to dust
as I try not to forget your face
without looking through
pictures tucked away
in clear totes with white lids;
but everything is digital now,
except for your voice,
which moves through my dreams
like the Ivers Johnson bullets
you shot through your heart,
rendering you motionless
as you intended,
shattering broken snippets
of the mold you left me in
that I had to piece back together
so I could watch you
lowered into the ground,
covered with a green satin liner
and Marine insignia silver casket,
wearing the rings
my father wed you in
years before I was ever a glint
in your doe brown eyes;
and soon faded grass turns to snow
to where each passing season
sees me grow strong again
because—it’s taken a while,
this journey of death
you and I have travelled,
and finally, again, I can remember
your long fingernails
combing my hair into braided pigtails
and your easy, breezy laugh,
all the while trying to find my own,
and like my eyes,
I know the green of the grass
will return untouched by digital time.

about the author
Christy Lynne Trotter lives in Huber Heights and grew up in the Dayton area, having obtained a master’s degree in creative writing from Antioch. She has attended the Antioch Writers’ Workshop several times in the last ten years and continues to pursue her passion for writing. This past August, Christy began her third year at Clark State Community College as an adjunct English instructor. Recent works of hers can be seen in Sinclair Community College’s 2015 Flights edition and Issue 11 of Mock Turtle Zine.

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