Cosette – A Poem by Katy Santiff

Submitted by Katy Santiff

Of course, your mother blamed me for the large
amount of sipping whiskey that you were
allowed that Summer night. The entire small
county were given such a fright to see
their favorite scholar on the gurney strap
in static white. It must have been me who
funneled it down, while you begged the young man
who bought us that booze to end my onslaught
and improve your plight. At least, she had screamed
at me something like that. I, fountain-eyed,
scoured for any sign of life. Of course, it
must have been me–and the great tragedy
of the night is that we witnessed the most
ponderous sight before your collapse, while
perched on my Chrysler hood with the windshield
cool on our backs–the fireflies turned the dark
sweet-corn field into a ballroom of light
and we cried. We shouted out their dance cards
as they swayed: foxtrot, waltz and promenade.

About the Poet

Katy Santiff has written poetry in various forms all her life. A fan of meter and rhyme, she loves lines that hypnotize the reader with their sound. She believes in densely-packed poems, preferring them to be mouthfuls when read aloud. A lifelong Marylander, she loves water-side living.  She currently lives in Edgewater, Maryland with her wife.

Painting: Rene Magritte – The Empire of Lights