Costel Iarca © 2008 All Rights Reserved
It felt like watching my mother
rinse a rag in the kitchen
to cool the burn on her hand,
the ease of an old lover’s
morning routine in my bathroom
where our reflections left the mirror unspent.
I began to remember
that this man I still love and my mother
have never once met.
It could be in another city where they fit together,
I could be over there, waiting in line
to bring them cups of coffee.
Some days my life is informed by such awful knowing,
every misfortune and simple desire
runs clear in my head.
On my lunch break I stood at the corner
of Sixth Avenue and Fourth Street
waiting for the light to turn,
the stranger behind me pushing.
And the silence between the people I live for
wouldn’t allow me to move.
Alex Dimitrov is the recipient of a Roy W. Cowden Memorial Fellowship from the Hopwood Awards at the University of Michigan. His poetry has appeared in Poet Lore, the Oleander Review, and the Columbia Review. He is pursuing an MFA in poetry at Sarah Lawrence College and lives in New York City.
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