By Amy King
The bourbon won’t let me sleep,
my pedagogical rose.
I touch you and leave you
alone like white pepper.
As though to come right up
against that which is not you.
Abut or adrift, dovetail moonshine:
I enjoy the burning eyes in somber words.
Likewise beside me, the knitting missionary
on the subway train forgives my bag against him.
And I am back at it, bluebelted noon, attitude
of sight, confession where a coat stands slack.
Previously published in No Tell Motel.
Amy King‘s latest is I Want to Make You Safe (Litmus Press). She is preparing a book of interviews with the poet, Ron Padgett, co-edits Esque Magazine with Ana Bozicevic and teaches English and Creative Writing at SUNY Nassau Community College.
Object(s) to bring back to life: “I would bring back bank “Saving’s Ledgers” that required the teller handwrite each transaction and your balance whenever you made a deposit / withdrawal. That imprint, and gesture, gave me pause as a teen whenever I thought about spending more than I had saved. Wonder what effects such continued transactions would have had on this country’s credit and spending history.”