|The Hocking Hills Festival of Poetry|
Liz Heym majors in Computer Science and Engineering at The Ohio State University. She attended the Wellspring of Imagination workshop in 2013 and was mentored for a year by David Lee. She has been published in Scholastic's Best Teen Writing 2013 and 2014 anthologies, as well as in Clover and The Voices Project. When not doing schoolwork or writing poetry, she rock climbs and builds cars.
The Art of Never Forgetting
You hum while driving knife across stone
the way sun sharpens her beams on cold morning clouds.
Morning tiptoes across the blade, young cousin of
pale moonlight hitchhiking along rain-slick country roads.
You danced when you were young
as if the floor were not made of cold wood
but warm spilled lamplight and cookie crumbs,
bare feet glancing across shadows
like soft radio static sidestepping through walls.
You hold the knife the way you once held your violin bow,
fingers curled over, thumb gracefully arched down.
The knife floats through bread, half air,
half sun-stained grain, shining like your blushing violin,
as you played, half silence, half notes soft as the way your hair
tumbled in dark waves over the chinrest.
You smile out the window while laying bread on the plate,
as if you can hear the morning hum over the field
a song you still know.