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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His barely recognizable corpse had gone through the passage rites of propriety, the grandiloquence of motionlessness.

AIDS Ward

This is the bed, empty again, next to the man dying. This is the strap that ties down the man that lies next to the empty bed.