I’m participating this year in National Poetry Month. Writing a poem a day all of April. Here is one. The prompt was to write a postcard poem.
I’m writing you from an island. I’ve been shipwrecked and shitfaced here for months. There’s not much to look at, but there’s plenty of beer. We purchased the island along with the floor lamp and two end tables from IKEA; morning sickness hit you hard that day. I’ve discovered lots of cooking shows and loose change since I’ve been on the island. If you were here I’d make you nachos. If he were here, I’d wash all his bottles without complaining. I don’t eat much since the funeral. But I look in the fridge for new food to appear whenever I open the door. I look under the island cushions for money to buy comfort. Sometimes I stand in the doorway and look in the bedroom—pretend to watch him sleeping on your chest.
(To be published here)