charlotte, a friend like you

charlotte, your babies are disappearing

the day of my life I learned the word “balloonist” disappears, too

a string that dangles towards a wind, against the will of everyone 

the lesson learned, is that some people leave, some people stay, but we all will die

who will be remembered as kind

charlotte, a friend like you is rare, and a good writer, rarer

on scraps of newspaper, my rat, my deliverer

the summer has never been the easiest

random words will fall from the heaps

hide them on our tongues, dissolve into the earth

waving with a tiny hand, you can’t see me because I’m here and you’re there

another lesson learned, is distance and memory and strong strong hold

you don’t know it yet, but I’m transcribing everything

Delia Rainey is a musician and writer from St. Louis, Missouri. She is a nonfiction MFA candidate at Columbia College Chicago. Her prose and poems have been featured in Pleiades, DIAGRAM, Peach Mag, and many others. Ghost City Press released her mini chapbook Private Again in August 2018. She tweets often: @hellodeliaaaaa.