Art by Glenn W. Cooper | Pinterest | Facebook | Blind Dog Press
When He Moves to My Neighborhood & His Girlfriend Writes That My Poetry Has No Literary Merit & It’s Just Meant to Make Him Feel Bad
what must it be like to stand in the market
gently squeezing peaches in july and see,
out of the corner of your eye, a stranger walk in
and something about their height and the shape of their glasses
and the cadence of their walk is familiar
and not want to run?
what must the body feel like if not taken over
with shaking, fruit falling from sweaty palms as if
from some failed tree? if not hot panic when you realize
the only way out is how they just came in.
what must the body feel like if not
how is it, in the moment of could be, to feel nothing at all?
is that difficult for you?
to think you see me and to keep breathing?