It was dangling there, hanging from a nail in the wall on a little copper-plated hemp string. It shone softly with a crystalline silver reflection, almost translucent. Sometimes, when through the ... [+]
I convince myself it’s a kind of grocery list
I will buy bread I will not
Forget gluten free for Uncle Paul
I will buy eggs will
Use the coupon at the bottom of my purse
I will
When my girlfriend asks me if I’ll write a New Year’s Resolution
I tell her I’ll write this poem instead
Tell her her voice pressed up against my cheek
Her voice more bean bag than human less skin and more frequency
See I am home but she’s not here
So I make another promise because it’s the closest I can get
To her lips from within this stone house
It’s not a grocery list
I dictated to my mother couldn’t
Bring myself to type the words
Only poetry belongs on these fingertips she kept
Smiling at me between sips of coffee I knew
Had long gone cold between I love yous
And I’m worried about yous
I will buy bread I want to say
I will buy eggs
Milk
Butter
I promise
I will