Coffee, Nostalgia & Lovers: Two Poems by Laura Rogalsky

“NOT MENTIONING YOUR LETTER” and “INSTEAD OF INDIANA”

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NOT MENTIONING YOUR LETTER

 

Grey snow makes me want to become my own lover

 

While I stir tiny routines and rituals into my coffee

Tiny lessons

Each petal fall

 

I wait for it to meet me

 

In a voice as pointed

As a needle on a record player

 

Good Morning

 

I’m not letting loose the empty skulls

Of small talk anymore

 

I don’t need answers

On why this world takes gold and beats it into leaves

 

 

 

INSTEAD OF INDIANA

 

the windows do not open

so this must not be my house

 

I made coffee for myself this morning

it was just the way you liked it

 

you’re not here to roll your eyes

 

I fucked a stranger last night

I knew must look just like his father

 

it didn’t turn me on

it didn’t turn me off

why did we go to Indiana that summer

 

was it for the apples

 

you said the way I moved ahead of you

made it seem like I must have been

in love with someone else

 

if I had leaned into my beauty

stopped complaining

you would’ve stayed

or I would’ve been the one who chose to leave

or turned into an owl

             you’ll go crazy talking like that

well     if you’re so with it     tell me a story

tell me about the time you used laundry soap

to wash the blood stains from underwear

into drain falls

tell me that even if

we had gone to Miami

Malaysia

or anywhere but Indiana

I’d still be here

 

touching this mirror

telling myself

                               she has it all

 


Laura Rogalsky lives and teaches music in Chicago. She is a participant in Ashbery’s Home School and the Tin House Writer’s Workshop. Her work is featured in Hooligan Magazine and Entropy.


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