D.I.V.O.R.C.E


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By way of a bio: Mark J. Mitchell was born in Chicago and grew up in southern California. He has published four full-length collections of poetry and several chapbooks. He is very fond of baseball  [+]

Image of The Current
Originally published in The Germ, 2014

He lost his second wife in Buffalo.
She hid behind his books and slipped away
on their due date. Libraries are safe—dust
holds warmth. It smells like powdered hands. She curled
under some shelves and stayed. He had to go—
anywhere. Two yellow lines knew his name.
He loved spilled gas, new tar. Some arctic gust
Chased him through a door. He followed a world.
She lives on paper now. Her dreams are sad
but pretty. His eyes only squint at signs.
He never wonders. She thinks that’s too bad
but flips her page. For now, distance excites
him like flame. She knows that her pictures will fade
quick as brittle paper, She swallows time.

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Mark J. Mitchell · ago
Hi Pied, I'm glad you like the poem. The piece started from something I overheard (the first line), then I made up the rest of their lives. I eavesdrop a lot.
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Pied Debiche · ago
Is a divorce only a written story ? It could well be. Swallowed words, also.
Thank you for this poem I have appreciated.

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