Thirty-three years later and what you recall
is partial truth, which is the way
all of us remember the sticky web of childhood:
selectively. Someone needs to sit you down
beyond the reach of your psychotherapist
to inform you that life never untwists elegantly
at any age, and the past is a two-sided coin,
as likely to flip its dark face
as the other side. You suffered. No one
claws their way out of adolescence without broken bones
and promises. You also survived and thrived.
You have the rest of your life
to dredge up that time long ago
and assign it proportions. You are an adult now;
you pack your own suitcase.
About the writer:
Tony Magistrale is Professor of English at the University of Vermont. He is the author of four books of poetry, the most recently published is titled Dialogues Among Lost Tourists (Finishing Line Press, 2017). His poems have also appeared in The Harvard Review, Spillway, Green Mountains Review, The Cape Rock, Slipstream, and Alaska Quarterly Review, among other places.
Image: “Tracks (Image #1 of 10)” by Lukas Irizarry. Photograph. No finished size specified. No process or technical details specified. No completion date specified. By permission. Irizarry is a film producer by trade and training and a photographer and poet by gifting and joy.