This poem originally appeared in Newtown Literary 13, Fall/Winter 2018.
Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedthis morning I came downstairs
to find that you’d thrown out
all the pictures of us
but not just that
you’d thrown out
all the pictures of me
as well
as if you didn’t just want
to erase me from your life
(which I could understand)
but as if you wanted
to erase me from my own
maybe that’s the way life is
we walk through it towing
a giant eraser in our wakes
a magnet inexpertly
wiping the tapes
and when we look back
all that we see
(if anything)
are smudgy ghosts
a negative sea of them
clawing at the shoulders of a few
incisive, persistent peaks
maybe you’ve got the right idea
choosing your battles
and not leaving the process
to chance
I just wish
in this one instance
you hadn’t made
the choice
for—
∅
