always
comes back to who
do
you really know
in the end,
it is
only
ideas of the big thing, the city
shrinks
whenever you stretch a hand,
although
you’ve lived inside, beside it
two hole
decades
there
isn’t much you have to share—you
are
one slim sliver, meaningless,
of
the human whole, &
your
moms dissolved into
album
folds, school-made heart-shaped cards
before
you
even got to ask the big stuff,
the
what was it like to break open, how many
years
did it take to disappear,
what does it feel like
to
be all someone thinks about until they form memories,
and
by then they have so much more than you,
was
it hard to let that go?
i wanted
to learn everything about you,
your
softball batting average, when your eyes change,
what
was your first drink—
but there’s so little time, we’re already
gone,
we
hardly even made it here to begin with,
like
the many building-ed view from a train window
it’s hard to remember
all those lives besides yours
going
on, always, together & not
feels
good to forgive the good, feels good
to
remember the bad, feels good to feel good skin
Jane Virginia Rohrer is a writer and
teacher from Southeastern Pennsylvania. She holds an MFA from the University of
North Carolina, Wilmington and is currently pursuing a PhD at the University of
Pittsburgh where she studies sound, radio, and contemporary poetry and poetics.
Her creative work has appeared or is forthcoming in Peach Mag, Metatron, Bone Bouquet, and others.
the
Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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