Two Poems
Wheeler Light How You Got Out Someone left the door unlocked Someone called the night nurse up Someone remembered to bring your memory home Someone called out of work sick Someone said it was your birthday party and that you should go out for a walk Someone took a picture of us and your teeth were missing like you were a hockey player who got checked badly by old age Someone decided the humane way was the best way Someone inserted an IV in your arm which became your arm and slowly became your entire room Someone turned off the lights in your body Someone looked at me through your eyes trying to remember my name I Want To Show You Something We are standing by a creek. The creek is overflowing. You dip a glass into the creek. The glass is pebbled with effervescent beads. You hand the glass to me and say Do not drink but all I know is how to drink so I drink and I drink until I have drank the entire creek. The last I saw of you you were trying to swim upstream. |
|
About the Author: Wheeler Light lives in Broomfield, CO, where he writes poetry and prose, and walks his dog. He is a Pushcart Prize nominee and the recipient of the 2017 IthacaLit Difficult Fruit Poetry Prize. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in December in New Delta Review, The Meadow, and Hobart, among others. He is the author of Blue Means Snow (Bottlecap Press 2018).