Hannah Everette

Hannah Everette Poems

Another man took me out tonight, but his hair was dark.
We made painful small talk in a hotel bar
Before I cut the evening short with an excuse.
...

There was a
hair
in
my shower.
...

When we come together
it is never to talk of our glory days
(there was glory for some people?
they’re the ones that don’t show up, I guess.)
...

'What is this? '
It is my face, though I had not
realized until
you asked.
...

at the end of the day
i feel empty.
...

The Best Poem Of Hannah Everette

Retrospective Crush

Another man took me out tonight, but his hair was dark.
We made painful small talk in a hotel bar
Before I cut the evening short with an excuse.

You would have laughed, I’m sure.

I can picture you still as you were:
Short, blond, crouching on top a rusting see-saw
Reciting Edgar Allan Poe.

When I hear The Bells I think of you.

You introduced me to O. Henry and Twain.
I took them to bed and they’re still there—
But you have never joined us.

Do you think of me when you read them? When you sleep?

Sometimes, I imagine we pass carts in the supermarket,
Though I wouldn’t know you today—
Last I saw you we were thirteen—

Yet I imagine that you recognize me somehow.

Do you say nothing then because you’re shy,
And your tongue is tied by the adult me
That reminds you of the younger you:

The shy boy who conversed with poetry, not people?

For years I never thought of you,
For years I couldn’t remember your name—
Now I can’t get it out of my head

Not that I seem to want to.

Am I the only crazy woman in the world
Who has picked apart her childhood
For a hint that a boy might be thinking of her as a man?

Sometimes I wonder.

Perhaps I am just grateful now for what you gave me then,
Or perhaps a part of me wants to go back to being thirteen
And thinks you can take me there,

Like a girl believes she can kiss a frog and catch a prince.

Ridiculous! I am a 21st Century woman of sophistication!
I don’t need a frog, or a kiss, or a man!

But then I stand, saner and happier than ever,
In front of a class of impatient preteens,
Reciting Edgar Allan Poe—

And when the bells ring, I still think of you.

Is it possible I was in love and never knew?

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