Leigh Fryling
Leigh Fryling is proud to call Mendon Michigan her home town, though she grew up in and graduated from Vicksburg Michigan. She is currently a Sophomore at Western Michigan University and an active student of the Lee Honors College, Majoring in Creative writing and hoping to double major in Theatre. She was the recipient of the Martha Moffet Award for Best Poetry, granted by the Friends of Poetry at the Kalamazoo Public Library, and has been granted various other honors for her work on stage, paper, and in music. She is currently writing a musical about the slam poetry world, and in the future plans to begin a theatre in Vancouver with her soon to be fiancť and their mutual friends.
Leigh Fryling

Far and Away from Home

You looked at me like I was some

Sweet pixie or

Quick leprechaun, as though if you blinked I would be gone and thatís why I stayed

Right

There.

And when you loosened my hair, I was where I wanted to be, to see you close your eyes and trace those patterns on your cheek that only lovers know to seek because they carry a matching glyph upon their softest skin.

Like a twin, like a kiss, like a molecule split from itself recognizing that voice in the dark because it sprung from you so many times you are too hoarse to do anything but whisperÖ

And in that, eyeflicker I was gone, drawn too close and too

Firmly to remain sane so I

Borrowed your hands for a moment, to cool my cheek to speak words I wasnít sure how to say, in a language too old to mistrust

Like dust on a grave so you canít quite decide when they died, and you make up your mind that the date is blank because "life is eternal, love is immortal, and death is only a horizon" line that someone drew with a white crayon on a white piece of paper on a

Bright evening when the stars have burnt out the confines of their spheres, and start to fall.

As the buckle of Orionís belt pulls down the night sky to show us that first green dawn that first, brilliant green dawn.

And youíve been gone so long that I wonder if you breathe when I canít touch you or sigh when I canít kiss you or laugh when I miss you like I lost my best friend because "you donít know what youíve got til itís gone" because you fit every song on the radio even if its "the story of a girl" or a commercial and "L-A-T-E-R that week" itís hard to believe that you arenít still here.

Because you should be.

Because you would be if I didnít have to go, you know I donít want to and I lie a little when I smile and lose sight of your face around the bend.

Because every moment could be the endó

Until Iím sure that Iíll see you again.