Evening Slides

-Poetry and Photography by Eliza Newman–

Boxing With You

Hovering under the overpass,
we were just kids,
senseless teenagers,
so selfishly aware.
We hung around
candy-covered storm drains,
insisted we walk on balance beams
and talk of diamond rings;
incapable of loving
for now,

We pawned ourselves,
swapping apple slices
for gummy worms,
squeezing out every last drop of sweetness
save a yellow lemon rind.
Our sweetness was replaced by bitter pith,
and like children too young for boxing gloves,
we gave it all up,
walked away.

***

Borboleta

I hope you never find my limbs
broken and mangled,
never see my deflated soul lying in a  pile
on a vomit-stained floor.
I hope you won’t be left with the pithy aftertaste
of a once-beautiful memento,
once painfully pure.

For years you let me frolic and play,
but while you were hiding
I was seeking and scraping my knees;
I was outgrowing my ballerina frocks
and pinky-sized tea sets.

I can’t tiptoe within your safety rails any more.

Tattered and inky, I found my wings—
secondhand, over-boozed, imperfect.
I refuse to amputate them,
no matter how much they may hurt.
I soar through thunderstorms,
thrashing my wings
against what I refuse to endure.
I am your little butterfly,
not so little anymore.

***

Post Photos Courtesy of Eliza Newman