The 2River View | 23.3 (Spring 2019) |
Lindsey Siferd elegy for all the goddamn feathers someone once told me, but sometimes i still wonder: i wrote you a letter yesterday: i wrote you a poem the first day i met you: i’m haunted by the ghosts of the children we never had they follow me home from work our children look like kittens and i didn’t think about you for seventeen days then i cried on an airplane and my therapist said but your death rattle voice, your broken glass smile, your stone teeth, your teeth stones, your teeth! but when it felt like opening a switchblade into my palm loving you was opening my mouth in the morning to speak and having my jaw crack instead bojack horseman is the only kind of art i want to consume did you know that 30% of the adult population did you know that if you sing into a plate of glass it will sound better? my therapist said not to give up on dating my best friend said i have a tattoo on the inside of my heart but there is still sand in my sheets from the summer here is a boy in a lion hat one thing i am good at is grieving for people that are not dead one thing i am good at is constantly wishing i was skinnier wait, no, i am constantly wishing i was smaller god bless my mother the man on the train next to me has a hole in his earlobe and i want to put my finger through it Lindsey Siferd is a college admissions counselor, with poems in Atlanta Review, Cimarron Review, pif, Vagabond City, and elsewhere. She lives in New York City.
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