Poem 123 ± October 5, 2015

Aidan Forster

It was July. With my clothing
on, I went to a park bench
with a boy and the moon
was split down the middle
like the palmetto bug
I found in my bedsheets.
I removed my shirt as the moon
removed its pale shell.
The boy pressed his face
to one side of my neck
and it fit with the exactitude
of bone and socket,
root and earth,
glacier and ocean. It is true
we tried to make one body
from two—
the Reedy River pressed its mouth
to the waterfall
and watched us do the same.
All I felt was gratitude.
What I have to show from that night
are two spider bites on my inner arm.

Aidan ForsterAidan Forster’s work appears or is forthcoming in Verse, Polyphony H.S., Assaracus, Alexandria Quarterly, The Best Teen Writing of 2015, and The Adroit Journal. He studies creative writing at the Fine Arts Center in Greenville, South Carolina, where he is the managing editor of Crashtest. He is the assistant blog editor of The Adroit Journal. Aidan’s work has been nationally recognized by the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, and will appear in the 2015 ART.WRITE.NOW.DC exhibit. He is the recipient of the 2015 Anthony Quinn Foundation Scholarship, and the winner of the 2015 Say What Open Mic: Fresh Out the Oven Poetry Slam. Aidan is a sophomore in high school.