Member-only story
POETRY
Coming Down off Afton Mountain
Jun 21, 2022
We drove up Afton Mountain,
Cloaked in fog,
To say goodbye
Before she left for Fife,
The splendor of the Shenandoah
Somewhere to our left.
It was never right;
I was always running after her.
I thought about learning to walk on water,
But I was tired.
The Inn was already in decline,
The room was dim and dank.
We never saw another guest.
We had planned to go up
At end of day
To break it off
And sure enough,
Somewhere between sunset and sunrise,
It broke.
All rather bloodless and
Civilized.
It would have been the perfect place
To yell or puke
Or throw a lamp.
In the morning it was raining
On the far side of the valley.
I can’t remember if I cried.
