Coming Home

Alyssa Cooper

That was the first night
that I carried your lights home;
I’d kept them safe
through night,
and carried them
with fragile hands –

and they led me home.

I’ll remember that night
in the passenger seat,
feet on the dash and robed
in smoke.
I saw you in the mirrors;
I bathed
in your voice.

On those old country roads
I was glad
that I never learned to drive.

Whipping through the night
like banshees,
like witches,
we voiced the laughter we couldn’t
and it escaped
through open windows;
it was stolen
by the night.

The world opened up
like a playground,
swings and sand
that swallowed my feet;
leaping fences
and broken chains.
We laid in grass,
under swollen skies,
and watching the pulsing lights,
the throb of
behind the clouds,
we waited for rain
that never came.
We breathed sweet smoke,
our familiar intoxication,
and I counted
the stars;
I found the constellations that tried so hard
to hide.

And I swore to myself,
you will remember,
Even as the roach
from my fingers, finding yours,
and I bathed in the swelling waves
of your voice,
it was the voice inside
that deafened,
in the night time air.

You will remember
it promised me.
You will never




Tags: , , ,

Categories: Uncategorized


Subscribe to our RSS feed and social profiles to receive updates.


  1. Coming Home | AlyssaCooper - 19/04/2013

    […] Issue Two of Century 121, available online now, includes my poem Coming Home. […]


Share your thoughts...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: