A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
Some evenings, he would hide his face in his hands for a few seconds — then let go of his held breath & lift his head again, his eyes bereaved of light. What room, face, gaze haunted him? & where you are, friend, in Kansas Utah Rhode Island Tennessee — what haunts you? What is it you choke inside your palms? Have you told someone? Have you? Will you?
‘Some evenings’ from These Many Rooms (c) 2019 by Laure-Anne Bosselaar. Appears with permission of Four Way Books. All rights reserved.