Poetry by Aria Starling
I remember Moses
I remember Moses from high school
Tall as a river and craggy and cool
Moses of the buck teeth and wrinkled clothes
The thin lips in need of Chap Stick
I remember his hands too hard and nails too long
How I tried to smooth those jagged edges
Into something like a song for years
Running feet ragged and standing on ledges
In tears at that party in New York at his mother’s loft
He pulled my hand like a scared little rabbit
We hunched over bowls of soup and crumbs so soft
He pushed us away like a bad little habit
I remember when Moses slept with Martha
In that matchstick apartment and my cheap Mary Jane’s
Flat with the thin rubber soles not good for the weather
I thought I would die and I cried myself green from the pain
But I lived
To follow my Moses again that summer at his father’s in Silver Lake
To watch Titanic and walk the dog he clearly loved
Cruel summer hot and cold in that California way
I remember his fake leather sandals and my ragged old skirt
When we hiked that dusty old trail with his mutt
My mouth craving apples my feet caked with dirt
How Moses refused to budge
Beyond the edge of that Canyon of flies
Well I hear that he finds a new dog now
Whenever the old one dies
I remember Moses from high school
Tall as a river and craggy and cool
Moses of the buck teeth and wrinkled clothes
The thin lips in need of Chap Stick
I remember his hands too hard and nails too long
How I tried to smooth those jagged edges
Into something like a song for years
Running feet ragged and standing on ledges
In tears at that party in New York at his mother’s loft
He pulled my hand like a scared little rabbit
We hunched over bowls of soup and crumbs so soft
He pushed us away like a bad little habit
I remember when Moses slept with Martha
In that matchstick apartment and my cheap Mary Jane’s
Flat with the thin rubber soles not good for the weather
I thought I would die and I cried myself green from the pain
But I lived
To follow my Moses again that summer at his father’s in Silver Lake
To watch Titanic and walk the dog he clearly loved
Cruel summer hot and cold in that California way
I remember his fake leather sandals and my ragged old skirt
When we hiked that dusty old trail with his mutt
My mouth craving apples my feet caked with dirt
How Moses refused to budge
Beyond the edge of that Canyon of flies
Well I hear that he finds a new dog now
Whenever the old one dies
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Aria Starling lives with a menagerie of family and friends and cats and dogs in New York City and Los Angeles. She’s currently editing her novel and keeps a virtual home at ariastarling.com (WIP). You can also follow her on Twitter @AriaStarling86.
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