Suspensions

Suspensions

Feb 4

Written By Kathleen Nelo

CURRENT WHEREABOUTS UNKNOWN

it says under the drawings of a woman

in crumbled newsprint.

I eat two oranges before sleep,

Your city, the lack in mental silence,

your Kant volumes on wooden shelves.

I stare at the

Three drawings of your now missing grandmother

1925

1936

19 — ?

Before time

Before the fever

Before the realization of flaws in the foul body

And I stare

at the penciled girl

The same mole eyes you

share

Ghosts in these diseased rooms,

Under your apartment

with curved steel and dried animal corpses.

You come in with stale tea before you dream.

Kiss me- not for me exactly

but not exactly with me either.

I look at the framed ghostgirl

and turn my body sideways

to blow out the night’s candle.