Location: St. Paul, Minnesota
Published In: Willow Springs, Cimarron Review, Artful Dodge, Graham House Review, Rattle, Blue Moon Review, Melic Review, Pif, etc.
Other: Editor of Taverner's Koans
The unapproachable silence,
the door always retreating from the doorframe.
This reminds me of you,
and I am left on the fringes of your territory,
insulated, with nothing to say,
like now. Like the winter morning where I said
I couldn't stand you anymore,
and you left the house, screaming at me
in another language,
a tone of voice I couldn’t decipher.
Once, on the edge of a campground,
I remember raccoons, concealed in their masks,
hovering near the edge
of the dumpster, tearing apart old bags of food
with their thick and dirty paws,
stream-wet, their eyes small amber mirrors
as we pointed flashlights at them.
And now, I'm blinded by the headlights
of cars that are moving
in every familiar direction at once. I am left
standing outside of your
brickrow, the children running past
with black Halloween masks,
candy wrappers in tatters at the bottom of their bags.