Fifteen
by-Jennifer
Hill
I
turned fifteen that year
when your Michaelangelo hands
held my face close
to your chest
and your words fell
like drops of rain
onto my tongue and ran
down my throat
so I could taste their sweetness
and grow strong
But your eyes
that were the same
blue as mine
never told me
I would one day stand
under the tumbling
mass of you falling
off your pedestal.