By Alex Diffin
By Alex Diffin

By Alexis Rhone Fancher

the lure
bring your tender love
to the city, 8th floor, the
door’s ajar. find me!

the operating instructions
she explicitly
told me how to please her, but
then, she always lied.

the truth
as she walked away
she said, yes, I love women.
I just don’t love you.

the rationalization
life’s cruel casting call:
I can play taller, blonder,
but I can’t play you.

the big missing
if matter cannot
be created or destroyed,
is she still out there?

the acceptance
so tired tonight. you’d
think the bottom had dropped out
of my intentions.

the bullet dodged
deep in my breathing
I stand outside of myself
and see me, breathing.

First Published in Wide Awake: The Poets of L.A., 2014

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