break ups / River Nocturne / Haiku
the next time
like counting worms
on your own time,
and the golden gate
bridge was build
‘cause the way
I see it,
life’s better worth
on the high side
We ran through the woods,
past the phlox and forsythia,
to the edge of lingering water.
The river ran black and bottomless
in the crystalline night.
The smell of azalea blossoms
drugged us, my wife and I,
and the south wind filled our shirts
with the warm air of summer.
I saw her for the first time
again, her figured traced by starlight.
She looked at me as if I were
a dream, in a film of rising fog.
Thunder shook the trees filled with dark,
and rain fell evenly on our shoulders,
then down our backs. The cloudbursts
decanted us. United, we dipped
beneath the steam. We told ourselves,
later on, that we would do anything
to come back here someday.
To be so happy again.
What’s better than a meal
so good that no one talks.
You sit, and you eat.
Connor Hubeny is a graduating senior at Marymount Manhattan College where he studies Communication Arts. He is an editor of his school's literary magazine, The Marymount Review, and a self-described cinephile.