Fan poetry

General heads up about Traveler headcanons.

*

The day we fought a memory


There is blood smudged on your cheek
when you notice me
and smile

And though sunlight glinted
sharp-edged on the waves
all of it
blood, smile, sea, you
look a little like how
the glare of headlights is dragged
through wet concrete
to make little lost rainbows
across the dark of night.

(You fought beautifully today
fluid with the currents,
clean-cutting and powerful
as the waters that claim you.
I bounced my light off of you
and you gracefully accepted
the blooms that I offered.)

I let the memory disperse
the phantom gas fumes
the centuries-old road trip
the one that was then
laughing away on a backseat
You don't sound the same
but for the adrenaline jitters.

(There's no lingering scent
of gun oil and powder
except inside my mind.)

So I focus on the feeling
of your hand in mine
as I pull you into
welcome danger
and the sea
and hope
we get to leave pretty rainbows
on our wake.