wife before mother (mine)
They had the same name.
What are the odds?
Of him leaving her,
I mean. Mom said he
wouldn’t ever, given the choice.
She left him?
I never knew
he’d hold tight to nothing.
Exhaust, really,
from his motorcycle.
I should know
now. He never did
get rid of it,
except the motorcycle.
We’ve got Harley Davidson
still in the garage,
plaques and license plates.
He’s the type to grasp
at pipes, I think.
We, he, had a dog called
Harley run ragged,
let me poke her eyes,
pull her tail.
Can’t believe he
 
 
———-
Jesse Ludington is a high school student from southern Connecticut, enrolled in the Creative Writing Department at ACES Educational Center for the Arts. She has received two Gold Keys, two Silver Keys, and an Honorable Mention from the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards for work in fiction, memoir, journalism, and playwriting. Her work has also been published in the University of Connecticut’s Connecticut Student Writers Magazine.
 
Photography by Fabrice Poussin.