Stretched
out on the grass
looking
up at the stars,
hands
tucked behind their heads,
feet
crossed at the ankles, bellies full--
fat
for the sacrifice
of
what lurks, stalks them
in
the dark: werewolves, zombies, orcs . . .
While
dragons skitter-fly by
on
iridescent wings
they
craft stories
from
far away worlds
to
see which of them
can
scare the others most.
A
fir wood fire crackles in the pit.
Marshmallow
bits stick to their lips.
“Can
I have your room when you move out?”
Laughing,
with brave faces,
their
eyes in firelight reflect the wonder
of
what it will be like to be the first to leave,
be
the ones left behind.
A
large spark darts skyward
splitting
unspoken thoughts
and
they turn back to stories of goblins, of ghosts,
on
this warm night in brothertime,
shaking
off the growing chill
of
jitters a bit more real.
©
2015 Jennifer Wagner
For
dVerse Poetics: Brothers/Brotherhood. Hope you come and join in the
fun!