Haley Lasché

Hollywood, Louisiana

If there was romance, it was in the mosquito net of shooting stars,
your strong arm holding me back from the Gulf into salt air.


If there was hope, it was in the shrimping ship
yielding thousands of filled skeletons at my painted toes.


If there was progress, it was me saying "yes" and you saying "no,"
a side of each coin in the alligator's eyes.


If there was trust, it was my fingers rounding Mardi Gras beads in prayer,
you passing the candlelit confessional, plugging ears with crude oil.


If there was end, it was in the hoarded treasure slipped from beneath your tongue,
the crystalline calcium carbonate echoing against the floor of the empty ballroom.


If there was memory, it was me running from the gala in debutante white,
rushing to the rotted dock where chain saw awaited my throat.


If there was forgiveness, it was the horror movie victim choosing gondola
over police car, pressing oar against skull-lined bottom.



My gondola approaches a shimmer on the waves,
                                                                                                 your seaweed fingers
                                                                                                 or the ghost of them.

 

Author Bio
Haley Lasché is a graduate student at Hamline University and a founding member of West Egg Literati. She has been on the steering committees of two college based literary magazines and has worked on Water~Stone Review as a student editor. She writes primarily poetry and criticism. In addition to her literary career, she is a college instructor, a professional post-modern dancer, and a punk rock fashion model.