unfortunately not a poem about zombies

[whitereflection]

Title: All Hallow's on the Highways, or, Trick or Treating at the Crossroads
Author: Di (whitereflection)
Pairing: Sam/Dean (reference to previous Sam/Jess)
Rating: PG (if that)
Wordcount: ~745
Note: Poem, Sam POV, no warnings, though I should probably apologize to someone somewhere for the Divine Comedy reference
Disclaimer: Show/characters that inspired this ain't mine



All Hallow's on the Highways, or, Trick or Treating at the Crossroads

There stands your mother
a flash of white disappearing from the corner of your eye
a flicker of golden hair you never got to see fade to grey
There she stands, telling you she's sorry
but she's gone when you turn to ask her why.

There stands your lover
and you remember how she always glowed from inside when she smiled
how she glowed from the light of the sunbeams that poured in
through the tall windows in your living room
and whenever you saw her standing there bathed in the sunlight
you thought, "Home."
Which is why she's still always with you now
because home's always moving
home's always wherever you are on the road that day
And you see her ghost glowing softly like sunlight
in the shadows of every woman you've tried to be with since.

There stands your father
in the distance, still too far away to reach
Just like he was too far ahead to catch up to
even when you were both in the same room together
or maybe that was because you'd already left and you were too far away
for him to reach you
But look, there stands your father
right there, in the mirror
You make him frown his disappointment, widen his eyes with fright
but he disappears when you make him smile with pride
and there's only you, making faces at your reflection.

******

Here stands your brother.

*****

The night sky above is filled with all the people you've left behind
and when you see a shooting star flare and fade into nothing
you know that was one where you were too late.

When you were a child, you believed you could fill the moon up
with hopes and dreams
and it glowed down on you bright as ice
But then you grew up and it turned into a harvest moon
a blood moon
You drank from it until your eyes were black as the sky
and the moon disappeared
and so did the stars.

*****

Here stands your brother
His North Star is on your back
and whenever you're lost, he touches his fingers there to guide himself
to find you
You are his Polaris
And he is the center of your universe.
When he was gone, there was a black hole in the shape of his name
and it sucked you down into empty places
dark-void places where you couldn't breathe.

*****

There is a thread that connects each and every star
that stretches behind you as you drive, a running stitch in yellow and white
sewn into the interstates and highways with a black needle
(shining black metal needle, glittering in the sunlight, glittering in the starlight,
glittering beneath the ice moon)
It is inevitable that thread should break
should unwind into a trailing nothing and an empty spool
But here it is, still,
a bit frayed in some places--
and here is your tangled snarl, and here is his tangled knot--
but here it is, still
unbroken.

You used to think it was two threads, always pulled side-by-side
but now when you look back you see
it's always been just one.

*****

You rouse from a dream, in the car
and you can still see the stitches of thread sewn in spirals and circles
loop after loop, nine times, once around the Earth, and then nine times again
He's already watching you when you look over to him
rubbing inferno and purgatory and heaven from your eyes
"You're Virgil," you say, half-awake random, and he snorts
"You're Beatrice," he retorts, smirking like it's the best insult ever.

He calls you it again when you're at the rest stop
sitting on the picnic table, feet on the bench, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip
watching passing semis block the view of some midwestern foothills
You smack him upside the head, and he throws stale M&Ms at you
You let him have the rest of the near-flat Mountain Dew
and he chugs it back with gusto
his grin pale teeth in the deepening dusk
He calls you it again that night, but you don't hit him that time
because he's breathed it against your skin
while you're busy doing other things to him
And anyway it's okay, really
because sometimes he's Dante and you're Beatrice
and sometimes you're Dante and he's Beatrice
(In truth, the car's Virgil, even if he says that's no name for a girl)
And that's just the way your life goes.

*****

Here you stand,
with your brother.
Here you stand, together.



(dvad 10-28-09)