Steve Barichko
walking through my hometown before a funeral
tonight is the highschool graduation the culmination of teenagers saying i want sex
and to be alone. past the football field the spruces begin. a homemade crucifix stapled
to one. our salutatorian dead twenty years. they told her parents she tried
to stop but towny friends of the emts said she never hit the brakes. spruce leaves
freshly pollinated hang like flattened tongue tips. past the cul de sac no longer a wound.
a pickup truck half on half off the curb plays a dead boy band. gowns lifted and grinding
in the bed. goodbyes are so selfish. to miss what you've gone away from and
to miss it again when it doesn't survive.
Bio
Steve Barichko is from Connecticut. His work has most recently appeared in Bear Paw literary journal. His first full-length poetry collection, "Apocrypha," is due out early next year. Find him on Insta @stevebarichko and Substack @self serve pie house.