Why I Keep Disembodied Ears in a Jar
Zeke Gerwein
His ears
Are lost in gray march with my backpack
swollen with poems and crumpled chaucer
Because he wanted me to put them in my jar when he left
And I didn’t
When he walked away
apart from myself
there with him at the cafe that smells like glitter pants (polyester) while he finishes his
coffee
And when we danced alone at the line of rocks on
the waterfront, nineteenth street hurdles one way
out of the cold lake my discontent is too full of mercury and discarded packaging to
escape underneath East Twelfth to the bay
At high tide on a midwinter evening with sunlight striking the lagoon like
when we burned the sky down together with water
→
His ears
Are lost in gray march with my backpack
swollen with poems and crumpled chaucer
Because he wanted me to put them in my jar when he left
And I didn’t
When he walked away
apart from myself
there with him at the cafe that smells like glitter pants (polyester) while he finishes his
coffee
And when we danced alone at the line of rocks on
the waterfront, nineteenth street hurdles one way
out of the cold lake my discontent is too full of mercury and discarded packaging to
escape underneath East Twelfth to the bay
At high tide on a midwinter evening with sunlight striking the lagoon like
when we burned the sky down together with water
→
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