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Spring 1999 - Volume 21, Number 2
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The Chase
Before it was over, we rode
the cold car off the pavement
behind the old school. We trailed
the moon onto the grass,
its thin crescent blade slung
low behind the leafless trees.
I raised one arm, fingers outstretched,
the other coiled in your hair. Two stars
disappeared, the first to go.
Next was the old post and beam
fence. We would not be held.
The asphalt merely shook our
skin loose as we pushed into it,
and I hear your cries fade softly
in the stiff pull of the wind.
Pine needles were falling about our bodies,
our bodies were falling apart. The
moon sank lower, landing on the dark
faces of the steep hills crouched behind
the skeletal trees. The night was dressed
like a thief. The wind was a lullaby.
Shadows played on our lips and
between our thighs. We stood alone
with the wind, our tongues shaking.
Before it was over, I became the echo
of a bullet's bark between your knees.
Now, I am not even an animal.
-By Eli Cohen
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