Fathom Mag


A poem by Hanna Velazquez

Published on:
January 9, 2017
Read time:
1 min.
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Her feet stepped in stride.
Heels clicked into melody
too painful for words; she stepped over cracks
to get where she was going. 

Back and forth along open, jagged concrete lines
catching dark pain
and deceit.
Bodies, malice and time;
soaks and seeps into open cracks until a tomorrow
shows up again. 

Didn’t she know?

I stood over the cracks with her.  
My pleas and warnings fell into them too.
Maybe they mingled with the rest
in the black
dancing at least for a moment
before the cold burn turned
them to frost. 

I’d like to think so.  

That day came;
she and her heels were gone.
Her body
lay over the cracks
wide open; they catch last breaths too. 

Down; the open, jagged concrete lines
cupped salty water
falling from jawline;
in the dark. 

The cracks tasted them. 

Swallowed them. 

Not even tears—mine—
do the cracks let you keep.

This poem won second place in our first ever poetry competition at Fathom Magazine.

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