FIRST DATE by Michelle Matz

In 5th grade I cheated in a spelling bee,
the final word – equator – visible

on the blow-up globe hanging from
the ceiling. It’s a small story,

the dollar-bin stuff of life
that years later, still clutters.

We were sitting at a cafe drinking
coffee, the tables pressed close

together. You leaned across
and in a sure, even voice, substituted

the o with an e. Sometimes sorrow
sharpens itself against stone,

sometimes against light.
That’s right, I answered,

leaning my chair against the wall.

Photo by Greg Dunlap, used and adapted under CC.