We'll Get There Somewhere

By Isabelle Shepherd

You  remembered  me  in  a   white  dress,  but  the  dress  was  all  flowers
blooming, the dress was violets. I’m not here to convince you. I won’t take
it  personally if you  decide not to come back.  A misspelling on Instagram
reads:  “brighter  then  the  sun.”  Sometimes  the  mundane things are the
most helpful.  A bigger stage and better equipment.  Trajectories and lines
of  flight.  More  silence.  I’m  not  here  to  convince  you.  I  can’t  help you
learn the right thing to say.  Everything you’ll  say is going to be the wrong
thing to  say.  Should  we  enter the garden after breaking, the fruits of the
garden will  be spilled.  I’m not here  to convince you.  My  job is  to try and
show  you  everything,  what  we  are and what  we are not.  Start from the
point at which we  left off—out of love.  Out of  love, I do this.  Out of  love, 
I  will  tell  you  where  it  lies.  The  sound  of wind outside and cheap hotel
sheets  stirring.  The Two Rivers  trail waits  for  us in  the morning. I’m not
here  to convince you. This is the return you make to me,  as if it were real. 

—

About Isabelle Shepherd

Shepherd is a poet from West Virginia. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in DIAGRAM, Ninth Letter, Powder Keg, Sixth Finch, and elsewhere. She is an MFA candidate at the University of North Carolina Wilmington. More of her work and upcoming reading dates can be found on www.isabelleshepherd.com.