He took my hand
that grey day
dark, muscled
trees emptied of birds.
As if I were watching
a grainy video
myself, led away.
The man was strong,
all twists, low voice.
It’s silent.
Shouldn’t have
taken the shortcut.
There’s nothing after
the path. See
maybe I was meant to.
Nothing after the
Or had to.
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About The Author
Deborah Derrickson Kossmann won the Short Memoir Competition at the 2007 First Person Arts Festival in Philadelphia. Her essay, "Why We Needed a Prenup With Our Contractor" was published as a "Modern Love" column in The New York Times. Her other essays have appeared in many other journals and magazine. She teaches in the graduate counseling psychology program at Rosemont College.
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