The Rialto | Teen Ink

The Rialto

September 6, 2010
By a.c.darmody BRONZE, Boise, Idaho
a.c.darmody BRONZE, Boise, Idaho
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
When a creative spirit is oppressed, creativity emerges as drama. Set the spirit free and creativity emerges as art.


For the first time
Become aware of appearances
Need to be more aware of appearances
Appearances matter

Stared down through the blue movie screen light
At our hands
His all pale and mine
All dark

This is a weird scene

To be my grabbing hand
Clutching my fingers

Not touching my palm
Or rubbing it

Guys who know what they’re doing

His hand wrapped around four of my fingers
And my thumb was just hanging out

It wasn’t part of my hand

Rubbed my palm with two of his fingers
Like the most important thing in the world
Was the palm of my hand

Held my hand
We were no longer simply us

Lips I hate breaking into a smile

Palm on face

Then on neck

Then on and on


Leaned into each other
Toe to hip to shoulder to lip
Our hands in our pockets

Feel my heart move against my chest
Don’t feel good

Clutch stomach
Twist uncomfortably
No comfortable position for this

Hand feels cool against forehead
Don’t ever move your hand

Break into a thousand pieces

Close eyes
Closing them at many things

Eyes go wide
Questioning stare
Shrugs
Shaking head at
Looks away
And nods

Nods and asks
So much more behind nod

Head moves like that

Fluid, up and down

Again and again



Wipes hands on jeans
Presses them against face
Warm and soft
Will miss hands
And smoky breath and eyes

By nine o’clock
Sitting on steps
By ten
Standing in the doorway
Ringing the bell

All of her looked different to me

To be as burdened by beauty as she is.

The author's comments:
This piece is a found poem based on the short story The Rialto by Jacqueline Woodson and Chris Lynch. I took lines from this short story, but only ones having to do with the physicality of the characters. I did this as an experiment to see if the emotion of the piece could still be conveyed, even if only tactile descriptions were used. I believe the emotion carries through, and have fallen in love with both the story that inspired it, and this poem.

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