It might comfort you to know that the blue barrier was between us last night, I’m not going to say that for you, my world stopsīut I’ve been close to you in ways you haven’t willed. I’ve seen cracks in you and I’ve watched things other than semen sneak out. I don’t think you’ve been to Vienna in the first placeĪnd if you had you’d probably just say it was too loud at nightīut I promise, I am good at sensing unrest: I try to hear you say that Vienna would rattle your ankles in springtime I can’t abide silence and I like to force poetry, so We’ve been lying side by side for a few moments nowĪnd I want to believe that I can feel everything you aren’t saying. I wake you only halfway, you are half-conscious,Īnd I too grasp only partially the harsh intimacy of these early hours.Īll I see is last night’s discard on the floor, September is not as ferocious as it seems. You, Marginaliar, refuse to let things lie-Ī poem by Edie Abraham-Macht for our Afterwards Issue. Of an unwelcome visitor rapping at your door. Who cares for the opium-infected ramblings of one man No, Old Samuel alone never did me any good Sketching a doodle of an albatross in flightĪlongside an impassioned note to your loverĪt the Prisoner musing from within the lime-tree bower,Ĭiting an incorrect quote from an old German Philosopher,Īnd leaving a streak of green grass-stains Rummage through dictionaries and kitchen cabinets Within the fine and established constraints A poem by Jared Brunner for our Afterwards Issue.
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