I wore brown boots that night.
I remember ice cubes clanking
In one burnt-umber glass
Clutched inside your grasp
I remember street lamps shining
On the soaked sidewalk
Stained with soil
I remember knee-high socks,
Toes toward the ceiling
Legs spread, and your face
I remember asking how
I remember saying no
I remember.
I wore brown boots that night.
Author bio: Charlene V. Martoni is a NY-based poet and librarian whose work explores the intersections between memory, trauma, and personal growth. You can follow her on Twitter @cvmartoni.
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