The Transfer
your mood, which doll to bring and rush
out again on the sliding steps
of your shoes half-on, forgetting to zip
your new pink coat in thirty degrees,
teeth and hair not brushed, already
passing the birch, mid-way between us,
too far to hear my fading voice
calling my rope of reminders as I
lean out in my robe, another Saturday
morning you’re pulled toward his smile, his gifts,
sweeping on two flattened rafts
from mine to his, your fleeting wave
down the rapids of the drive.
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Disclaimer
We do not accept unsolicited submissions. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2013 by Elise Hempel and reprinted from Only Child, Finishing Line Press, 2014, by permission of Elise Hempel and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2024 by The Poetry Foundation.