Free Write - Week 9

This is just a draft based on my notes from the conversation in class. I'll revise again after I get everyone's "official" commentary from Davidson:


The first night I considered love,
you dropped me
on a ring of campfire stones
your jester's hat tripping
across the 2 A.M. October.
I might have known then
but I was too busy listening
to the sound of laughter - ours -
breaking the night.
Nimblewill Creek defused
the alcohol as easily as we shivered
away from boots, jackets, and apologies.
On an air mattress,
the makeshift bed of your truck,
we traced the bony shadows of trees.
Reticence stopped all conversation,
eventual and blurred.
We pressed our eyes shut
warmed by flannel cocoons
and woke, I fear, to the smell
of trout, bulging filmstips of rainbow
frying away the afternoon.