By Katherine Mansfield

It’s still there, where I left it, leaning / against the green wall, greens growing in and around it. I haven’t / put foot to pedal since you left here, since I left the bike / alone here, like me without you. / Would you call it a stationary bike since it’s unmoving, has sat still so long? I imagine / if I mounted, maneuvered the bicycle over the green grass, the chain would clink, breaks would squeak. / Would you call it thirsty since the metal rusted in the rain, black spots / speckled on shiny iron, weathered / contraption crying for oil? / Do you think it knows how long it sits alone? Will I / become part of the landscape you pass by if you pass through, yellow / with a floral basket, blending / into the wall / I’ve been leaning against? Would you notice / me, could you remember / me, my wheels spinning, the wind rushing, our hearts racing / pedaling along under Mr. Blue Sky to Mr. Blue Sky, so free so easy, like Sunday / morning before adulthood? It’s still there, where I left it / the memory, a green wall, ivy growing in and around it. Do you / see it? Is it still beautiful to anyone / other than me?

Learn more about Katherine in her bio on the Featured Author page.

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