He keeps showing up in my dreams,
or my dreams keep building themselves
around him. Either way.
More than once, I find him
in the seat next to me, quietly eating.
We’re at a restaurant in Vernazza.
We’re in the Mississippi countryside.
I am saying goodbye to him before I leave
for space. He tells me he will choose me
a hundred times. He is like a very tall tree.
I wish there were a ladder I could climb
to look him in the face.
If he is sitting, I can see him fully.
If we are sitting, we are in Europe but
homesick. It is warm and dry,
and little boats float beside us, bumping
into each other. There is blue in every
direction except for his.
I lose myself in a forest when I look
at him. When I look at him, light dapples
past the trees.
MEG BOYLES was raised in Ridgeland, Mississippi and is a junior at Hendrix College, studying creative writing and literature. Her poems can most recently be found in The Aonian and The Rising Phoenix Review.