Not the sorted mail in the back room of the post office. Not a face
stiffening when speaking. Not a buzzing in and around the head. Not
dim light nor deafness. Not a hot flash through the body nor the sweat
seeping through the shirt. Not avoiding public bathrooms. Not a
shuffle. Not another corner. Not a mumble. Not a mumble. Not a mumble.
Not mumbling until they walk away. Not a dream in the dust but a
disappearance. An eyelash lost to the light.
MORE WORK BY ANHVU BUCHANAN
The Barbie Cage
Boston Literary Magazine (scroll down)
Steger Prize for Poetry