we never believed
our luck – new teacher
& young
& pretty
from up north somewhere
living on her own
she needed help
around that old house
& paid well
& fed us
chowder & biscuits
liking the excuse to cook
we built her a deck
over the summer
& stained
& sealed it
overlooking the water
we worked in the sun
beside the enticing lagoon
& dreamed
& lusted
for a dip with her
when we finished
we heard a splash
& couldn’t believe our luck
& dove in too
hungry, luxuriating in our bodies
never imagining
that she was too
(Previously published in Dreams & Nightmares)
Perpetually sharpening his fiddle at the crossroads, John Reinhart is an arsonist, father of three, and poet. He was born in Denver, which suffered major fires in the 1860s, leading city officials to change building code standards. A long distance admirer of Herodotus and William Butler Yeats, he has encouraged his children to play with matches from an early age.
The recipient of the 2016 Horror Writers Association Dark Poetry Scholarship, he’s won the Poetry Nook Weekly Contest and has been a Pushcart, Elgin, Rhysling, and Dwarf Stars awards nominee. His work ranges from fantastical to experimental, and has been published in Pedestal Magazine, Holy Shit!, Fleurs du Mal, Liquid Imagination, Popshot, Better Than Starbucks, and many others, various anthologies, and across seven collections of poetry. Find his work at http://home.hampshire.edu/~jcr00/reinhart.html, and on social media.
Published 10/31/18