The puddle looks like coffee
the way her father drank it: murky
with streaks along the surface.
But surprisingly
it is cold and
has no flavour
as they push her face into it,
holding her ponytail and giggling
as schoolgirls often do.
Bubbles froth out.
Her nose presses against gravel
and dirt.  Grit on teeth.
Crunch on cheek.  The cool
water soothes the sting on her lips
where the chain link fence had pressed.
She stops struggling
when she feels the tug
and hears
                      the rip.
She sits alone in the puddle
in the alley and watches wisps
of her own hair float away
        in the wind
            chasing after the
                 laughter and footsteps.
Tears slip off her face,
distort her reflection
as they plink into the
puddle that no longer
reminds her
               of her father.

6 thoughts on “Puddle

  1. Tyler,

    Your poetry/prose is exceptional!!!!!!!!
    This particular poem you call ‘Puddles’ was so heart-felt for me….I was in tears before I had finnished it.
    I am looking forward to getting your book and having you sign it for me.
    Yvonne M
    (your dear brother Jackson told me all about your published poetry book this summer. He was so proud to talk about your writing as we sat as a group on a beach in Kauai…. during the incredible time spent away for my dear Dan’s wedding.)

    1. You can contact the school. Tell them your new address and ask them to ship your yearbook to you. Or, you can e-mail me with the info and I can pass it on and make sure it gets shipped.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: