First Love
William Greenfield
Mint leaves covered a rusty fence,
separating yards and strings
from the heart.
Folding a leaf between
thumbs, I forced a sound
not unlike a shofar’s tekìa.
If not minding siblings, she
would come, take my hand
and pretend to tell my fortune.
One Saturday, she heeded
the piping, took me behind
her father’s garage and revealed
her pre-pubescent parts.
An eternal pact I presumed,
something never to be broken.
We were so
convenient.
We shared the same view of
Mr. Cole’s market. We heard
the same firehouse siren
at 5:00 each day.
I came to know that
not every first finger entwined
or every first quiver of loins
will blossom. There are
things more enticing than
rusty fences or the boy
next door. And I know that
this is, of course, how it
always should be.
William Greenfield
Mint leaves covered a rusty fence,
separating yards and strings
from the heart.
Folding a leaf between
thumbs, I forced a sound
not unlike a shofar’s tekìa.
If not minding siblings, she
would come, take my hand
and pretend to tell my fortune.
One Saturday, she heeded
the piping, took me behind
her father’s garage and revealed
her pre-pubescent parts.
An eternal pact I presumed,
something never to be broken.
We were so
convenient.
We shared the same view of
Mr. Cole’s market. We heard
the same firehouse siren
at 5:00 each day.
I came to know that
not every first finger entwined
or every first quiver of loins
will blossom. There are
things more enticing than
rusty fences or the boy
next door. And I know that
this is, of course, how it
always should be.
