• Home
  • Submit to Five South
  • The Weekly
  • Fiction
  • Non-Fiction
  • Submit to Five South

  • Submissions are open for flash, poetry, long fiction, and non-fiction. Read our submission guidelines.
  • Recently Published

    • The Evolution of Eve by Debra A. Daniel
      Who would’ve thought she’d ever dance again?
    • Our Theseus by Nathan Jefferson
      Last week he was a dishwasher who his coworkers called Ricky. Today he’s a day laborer named Eddie, clearing a pair of fallen trees off a new build’s lawn and fixing up a large garden. Rotting plank ripped out, new plank inserted.
    • Robbing the Pillars by Marie Goyette
      Ruth stood on the narrow iron bridge, gripping her father’s obsidian necklace, and wondered how many years it would take before the river wore them both down to nothing.
    • Roll for Love by Cidney Mayes
      She holds the dice up to me. “For good luck?”
    • The Call by Eben E. B. Bein
      I hungered into that quiet until— there—unbelievable!— a wolf spider scuttled onto a leaf.
  • Home
  • SUBMIT
  • About Five South
    • Newsletter
    • Masthead
    • Authors & Poets
  • DONATE
  • THE JOURNAL
    • The Weekly
    • Fiction
    • Non-Fiction
  • Join Us!
    • Volunteer Associate Editor, The Weekly
    • Volunteer Social Media Manager
    • Senior Non-Fiction Editor
    • Deputy Editor
    • Volunteer Readers

Undiagnosis by Jacob Nantz

September 6, 2020
Reading Time: 2 Minutes
To wonder where this began is to retrace
memory: a day in autumn, trees half dead,
half living. In the air, the smell of leaves
and sticks burning, smoke meddling with fog,
no way to distinguish one from the other.
We walked home on the sidewalk that twisted
through our neighborhood, our double helix
to home, grocery bags filled until their square
bottoms rounded out. I walked quickly those days.
I had no reason but found one, always, to leave you
behind. That day, your bag began tearing
at the seams. I could not see it, only felt you
falling behind as the sun dipped below the crooked
tree-line. I could see my breath as I cursed you
to hurry. First fell the stronger items, those
which remained intact when they struck the pavement.
We walked past our childhood—parks and slides,
fields, the small forest where neighbor kids smoked
cigarettes, where, once I grew too old for bikes, you
also smoked cigarettes. First you scraped up produce
from cement. Then you saw stars when it was still light,
swore they were following you, were to blame. I did not
believe you. Next fell the easily bruised. Your trust fragile
as eggs, you tried to keep up. Why couldn’t you do it.
Why couldn’t you keep it all intact. I wish I could have
stopped it, or known, even, that you aren’t at fault. Someone
could have told us it’s okay to feel broken. I would have helped
instead of walking. Even now, I notice the yolk on our fingers.
I pretend to see stars next to the sun. It’s buying me time
to seek help before regret storms in, splits my heart in two.
Free VerseNarrative Poetry
Share

Poetry

Nantz, Jacob
Jacob Nantz received his MA in Poetry from Southern Illinois University Edwardsville. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Evansville Review, Sinking City, Emerge Literary Journal, Gigantic Sequins, and elsewhere. Born and raised in the Chicago area, he currently lives and writes near Washington DC, and can be found on Twitter @JacobNantz

You might also like

Caught by Chris Bullard
November 19, 2024
Second Winter Solstice During an Epidemic by Marianne Worthington
September 26, 2024
Beautiful Generative Machine by David Fowler
September 17, 2024
  • Poetry

    • The Call by Eben E. B. Bein
      February 25, 2025
    • Caught by Chris Bullard
      November 19, 2024
    • Second Winter Solstice During an Epidemic by Marianne...
      September 26, 2024
    • Beautiful Generative Machine by David Fowler
      September 17, 2024
    • Desire Speaks by Alexandra Burack
      September 11, 2024

  • Subscribe to our Newsletter
    Subscribe Now

    We won't spam you. Unsubscribe whenever.



  • Categories

    • Book Reviews
    • Fiction
    • Non-Fiction
    • Poetry
    • The Weekly
    • Uncategorized

  • DONATE
    VOLUNTEER
    ABOUT FIVE SOUTH
    MASTHEAD
    SUBMISSIONS



© Copyright 2020-2025 Five South :: Web Design by Kristen Simental