I'M THINKING ABOUT YOUR MOTHER
again.
Which is to say:
often,
often,
sinking into the couch
like a half-flooded ship,
the water cradling
then smothering
as the hull tilts.
Okay, and you now:
relief as a delay of pain
instead of its end.
Or:
relief as a form of loss,
collecting in your hollows
like lead dust.
Now me:
as witness, the weight I bear
is all my own.
Now all of us:
seeped together.
A unanimous
rejection.
Why are we always outside
when inside they are singing?
Your head kinks back, throat white as a wrist.
I get it. I know. I showed it to you.
That sheet of stars.
ABOUT THE POET
Elaine Johanson is a writer, teacher, and videographer in Philadelphia. She holds an MFA in poetry from Columbia University.
ABOUT SUGAR HOUSE REVIEW
We’ve loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), so now we want an opportunity to better hear our contributors. We will feature an audio recording of a poem from one of our seven issues, read by the poet and updated every couple of weeks. This an open invitation to all contributors from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to hear it.
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