Poem of the Month
No Exit

By Robin Richardson

Published on August 1, 2018

I love your world, he said, just keep it to yourself
—I love your mouth.

In a Star Wars-themed fever dream
….I saw him lassoed by a solar flare and held
there in a warmth I couldn’t provide. Blue light
….clicked as I woke, wishing

caffeine came easy as a boy of twenty.
….Think these sausages have feelings.
See them smiling from the skillet, soaking
….olives plucked in Florence by a sun-fold crone.

Wish I’d been there popping bottles
….of Prosecco by the boastful shadow
of that lady. Can’t fake mornings undone
….by a brain as anxious as a surgeon

with a bone to pick. One busted nose
….and I keep thinking it’ll shift again, fall
off: some stupid uncle’s magic trick
….gone wrong: I got your nose, I got your nose!

He got me hooked on the illusion I was whole.

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I loved my colleagues and their playful putdowns. I loved the way they paid attention to clothes — as if they never considered how their tunics and smart pantsuits looked like upholstery.

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People before profit.

it’s a seemingly endless descent.
Marlyn’s streets do not resemble
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