At work he says to me, “How are you?
The last time we saw you, you ran out on
dinner. We all wondered where you went,
so we held your mom hostage.” He jokes,
all smiling up a storm like I’d have an
explanation for him like I forgot my oven
was on or left my wallet at home. But
I know I’ve seen him since that night
at a work meeting somewhere. That was
almost exactly five months ago and
I don’t bring those memories to work
with me. I don’t put the trainwreck
feeling on the player at school while
I got my authoritative hands on my hips.
So I change the subject. He doesn’t
know what an ass he’s being. Sometimes
they just don’t know.

Sarah Thursday was mostly raised in Long Beach, California. She teaches 5th grade, is obsessed with music, and has only recently dived into poetry again. She has been published in Stylus, The Long Beach Union (CSULB), Brand New Retro, The Atticus Review, and an upcoming project called Please Judge: Short Stories Based on the Songs of Roky Erickson. She has also self-published five chapbooks over the years, The Perishing Hope of the Godless (1992), An Offering of Wisdom and Sorrow (1993), Trying to Tell You Something (1995), Things Mean a Lot at the Time (1999), and Healing the Heart of Ophelia (2001).

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1 Response to Hostage

  1. Pingback: Hostage | Sarah Thursday

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