By Jeffrey Alfier
By Jeffrey Alfier

By Victoria Lynne McCoy

I’m afraid the poem will never leave me completely.
That this grief must need me, the way the bruise needs
the soft of a body. Why else do I survive
what she couldn’t? Why else am I left behind
to climb out the driver’s side if not to carry in me
the siren’s lonely tremolo, metal taste
of what’s unsalvageable. I want to stop
writing her out of existence,
to erase the passing soldiers holding her
on the shoulder of Interstate 15.
Traffic lanes on every page now,
every word a vehicle I don’t make it out of
until the end cracks open like a windshield
and I crawl out its sudden mouth.

Washington Square Review (Fall 2015 issue)

1 comment

  1. This is such a powerful poem, the kind you can read again and again and be even more impressed. A true monument to the person as well as to grief.

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