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By Sam Dotson

An old friend

come to see me again.

“It’s been a while,”

spoken knowingly.

“Can you remember?”

Not anymore.

“Kind of,”

I lie.

“Remember when we…?”

I can’t

“Of course I do,”

slithered through gritted teeth.

Sitting still upon a precipice,

beady eyes inside a carapace.

Try so desperately to keep the pace,

look down and see my untied shoelace.

Ataraxian dreams sail breadth of mind

and probe for gold in hearts of mine.

But why can’t I remember?

It doesn’t seem so far away.

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Sam Dotson is a fourth year Anthropology major at the University of Cincinnati and he has been writing on and off since he was about 16. Currently, his goal is just to make enough money from his writing that he can travel and write even more about it! If you want to see more, you can check out his website, poemsbysam.com, where he posts daily.

Featured art: Citrus by Sophie Caswell