What am I getting at? Away?

I am the same pair of legs

as yesterday. When the sun sinks

they collapse against each other

like two spoons in a drawer. I don’t

trust a single thing I can think of

as another thing. That determination

in the mind, where a word bank

supplants all that is knowable

with horses on the horizon,

steel girders, a scooter.

How are we supposed to know

what will happen without knowing

what will happen? Or maybe

I can see the future for real.

I once wrote you are the sand

at my side before you were

the sand at my side and still

it’s true what I knew about sand.

This mind, digging in its shell.

How will I describe a metal color

all by myself? I’m asking.

I’m at the right spot to pause

for a question I know the

right answer to like I am

going to die? I can’t look at

people in the eye unless

they love me and then I can’t

look them in the eye.

 

 

 

 

Laura Eve Engel
‘s work can be found in the Boston Review, Crazyhorse, Columbia Poetry Review, Tin House and elsewhere. A recipient of fellowships from the Wisconsin Institute for Creative Writing and the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center, she is the Residential Program Director of the UVa Young Writers Workshop.
Filed under: Poetry

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