Some vegetable rots in the throat of the sink & you are the first to call it by its name. All night your skin radiates this implantation heat. It’s my egg inside you that digs & digs for days then dumbs & recedes. A tide, mismatched. O they say just one small failure multiplies in mirrorball: bad cell holding my face & hair & so on. Do I get to name this grief, what lives in but also outside me, what sounds like my voice in a far-off room? You slap wet shirts over the shower curtain rod, empty sleeves sloppy with weight. It’s out of our hands, you say. But I knew this, even before the blood came.
Elizabeth Lindsey Rogers
Elizabeth Lindsey Rogers is the author of two poetry collections: Chord Box (University of Arkansas Press, 2013), finalist for the Lambda Literary Award; and The Tilt Torn Away from the Seasons (forthcoming). Her poems and creative nonfiction have appeared in The Missouri Review, Boston Review, Prairie Schooner, Best American Nonrequired Reading 2017, Best American Travel Writing 2017, FIELD, Crazyhorse, and elsewhere. A former Kenyon Review Fellow, she is currently the Murphy Visiting Fellow in English-Creative Writing at Hendrix College, a contributing editor at the Kenyon Review, and a volunteer for the Veterans’ Writing Project.