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he watched me cross the cafeteria

Denise Gilchrist

It was early fall. I was Bobby’s 
Here Comes My Girl,
sunbeams and corkscrew curls.
His eyes searing the back
of my black gauchos 
cinched at the waist
with a gold-plated heart.


I flashed to summer—
how I leaped 
at that tan cowboy hat
his come-hither wink
the two of us carrying the water tub 
in from the field
his blond hair damp and feathered.


As I crossed the lunchroom 
every cell, a cosmic grace.


Across the hall, I saw 
my name on the courtyard wall
still wet, dripping blue
meeting the janitor’s roller 
loaded with beige.

​Denise Gilchrist is an emerging poet, avid music lover, and border collie mom who muses in the forest of southeastern Pennsylvania. Her poetry has appeared in several publications including, Smoky Blue Literary and Arts Magazine, Door is A Jar, Woods Reader, The Mixtape Review, Sublimation, Suburban Witchcraft, and Grand Little Things.

© 2025 The Mixtape Review

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