What Really Happened

While we are here

I try not to think

about leaving try sitting on this porch

as though I can sit here forever

as though I can memorize how this feels

sounds of birds whose names I’ll never learn

try to look at this porch a treehouse

not so far above the ground a porch whose beauty

does not fade painted perfect light yellow

by a man named Howard

who told me the story of his brother Robert

married a woman he met in jail she was

getting her PhD at Columbia in sociology said Howard

studying prisons studying Robert

irresistible Howard just like Howard

they got married in jail

Howard brought them to visit one day to the porch

Robert and PhD Anita that’s what he called her

they sat and told me their version

of jail and love and Howard sat too

when they leave he said I’ll tell you what happened

what really happened.


Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

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