I want only to say that the indentation
in the pillow is almost gone now.
The lingering smell of the kitchen between
your legs still haunts like the
ghost of a dog. The things in the icebox
that were yours have all returned to the earth,
a deadly compost. And I, I
stand outside in the rain and say I am washed
in the blood of the limp. I want only
to say that it is over now, the long hemorrhage.
I bloom in the daylight, your flower,
your perfect, undying mirror, your excess.
Corey Mesler has published in numerous journals and anthologies. He has published two novels, Talk: A Novel in Dialogue (2002) and We Are Billion-Year-Old Carbon (2006). He has also published numerous chapbooks and one full-length poetry collection, Some Identity Problems. His book of short stories, Listen, came out in March, 2009. He has been nominated for a Pushcart numerous times, and one of his poems was chosen for Garrison Keillor?s Writer’s Almanac. With his wife, he runs Burke’s Book Store in Memphis, TN.