Sliver of a Life
\nby Niyathi Chakrapani<\/p>\n
She had told the reporter,
\n\u201cI loved him, I loved him,\u201d
\nBut the newspaper only printed it once.
\nThere was also
\nA quote from his favorite baseball player;
\nSome clammy, optimistic Bible text;
\nHis birthday, a mere memory now;
\nAwards from college, received years ago
\nIn subjects he did not pursue;
\nNames of family members he had not talked to in years;
\nMeaningless compliments;
\nHis job, which he hated more than one could imagine;
\nA blurry picture with too much sunlight and exposure;
\nAnd his love of the Yankees,
\nQuite understated in saying he merely \u201cloved the team.\u201d<\/p>\n
She had told the reporter,
\n\u201cI loved him, I loved him,\u201d
\nWith the tears that she abhorred
\nSprinting down to her fragile chin,
\nPouring down like livid rain.
\nThe reporter feigned pity and said,
\n\u201cI am sorry, ma\u2019am. This must be hard.\u201d
\nShe wanted to punch his contrived smile.
\nThere was anger and sorrow in her eyes,
\nThe most pitiful of combinations.<\/p>\n
And when she read the newspaper that day
\nShe took all the liquor in the house
\nAnd smashed their bottles
\nTill the shards became paste,
\nSprinkled across the now-chipped wooden floor
\nLike freshly fallen snow.<\/p>\n
The little square of words,
\nA banal sliver of a life,
\nOr a stanza trying to compensate
\nFor a beautiful elegy.
\nThe meaningless banter of a child,
\nRepartee and badinage,
\nA cruel joke played with good intentions
\nOn the most mournful of souls.<\/p>\n
For in that little square of words
\nThere was no mention
\nOf how he always got ice cream on his nose,
\nAnd laughed as she wiped it off and licked her finger;
\nOf his yellow, pirate-like grin
\nWhich could light up the room
\nMore than the whitest and straightest of insincere smiles;
\nOf how he refused to leave the stadium
\nAfter the Yankees lost
\nBecause he couldn\u2019t bear to be in his home, in comfort,
\nWith the thought of their failure looming in his mind;
\nOf how he cooked Thanksgiving dinner
\nBecause she had a fever that weekend,
\nAnd though they both ate burned turkey that year,
\nIt was the best turkey they ever had.<\/p>\n
As she told the reporter,
\n\u201cI loved him, I loved him,\u201d
\nShe knew she would never drink again
\nFor the drunkenness of another
\nWas what had killed her love.
\nAfter that vow she grabbed the last bottle of brandy
\nAnd threw it over her fence,
\nAs far as her slender arms could bear,
\nKnowing her pain lay in that bottle
\nAnd wishing it could shatter as easily.
\nThere was anger and sorrow in her eyes,
\nThe most pitiful of combinations.<\/p>\n
She ran back to the newspaper,
\nIntent on ripping it to shreds,
\nBut could not bring herself to harm
\nThat little square of words,
\nA banal sliver of a life,
\nThe last dregs of a forgotten eulogy
\nSpoken only in her mind.<\/p>\n
For on that paper there was printed
\nA quote from his favorite baseball player;
\nSome hopeful Bible text;
\nHis birthday, a loving memory now;
\nAwards from college, received years ago
\nIn subjects he wished he had pursued;
\nNames of family members who loved him;
\nInnumerable compliments;
\nHis job, which he only continued out of love;
\nA picture taken in a beautiful meadow;
\nAnd his love of the Yankees,
\nQuite understated in saying he merely \u201cloved the team,\u201d
\nBut stated nonetheless.
\nAnd bottommost of all there was printed
\nThree simple words, more innocent without repetition,
\nQuoted with a name:
\n\u201cI loved him.\u201d<\/p>\n
So she clutched the paper to her heart
\nAnd let fall her abhorred tears.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Niyathi Chakrapani is a 15-year-old poet from Sammamish, Washington who received\u00a0four regional gold\u00a0medals and a national\u00a0silver medal for her literature in the Scholastic\u00a0Young Artists and Writers<\/a>\u00a0national competition, as well as several local awards\u00a0in the KCLS library system’s Rhyme\u00a0On!<\/a> competitions and\u00a0the Issaquah Youth Board\u00a0Poetry Slam<\/a>. Niyathi loves to write poems\u00a0about her deepest feelings and observations about the world, as well as\u00a0to put herself in the shoes of other people and write poems from their perspective. She also\u00a0loves to write and perform songs, volunteer, and eat chocolate.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Sliver of a Life by Niyathi Chakrapani She had told the reporter, \u201cI loved him, I loved him,\u201d But the newspaper only printed it once. There was also A quote from his favorite baseball player; Some clammy, optimistic Bible text; … Continue reading