The Best Poem You Ever Wrote
/Andrew Chapman
was about that kid our age who
fell in a Wyoming hot spring and
dissolved before the park rangers
could find which hole he’d made.
Remember kissing you at the
thrill of my discovery, like I just met
the girl I’d been living with, like our
place was waitlisted for historical
placards, twice-daily tours, a modest
gift shop. So I had the thing laminated,
pinned it above our wobbly white IKEA
desk. While your twenty-dollar printer
pushed ticker tape poems around our
room the Best Poem You Ever Wrote
hung in adoration between wedding
photos, silly polaroids. Found myself
frowning reading it aloud, appraising it
against your new stuff, making note to
show you more teen tragedy articles.
Still, I celebrated with friends, even
strangers, read them your hot-spring
poem instead of showing your picture,
and long after your earthly belongings
were carried off in a Hyundai Elantra
the Best Poem You Ever Wrote stayed
up on the corkboard, a prize I’d won.
Your other pieces had all dissolved
before I could find the hole I’d made.
Bio: I moved to Roanoke from Lafayette, Indiana after hiking the Appalachian Trail in 2021. I am an infrequent poet. My poem is autobiographical.
