[Stutter]

[Stutter]

BY LESLIE HARRISON
I said love because it came closest said leave
because you did we do this peeling off each
from each each from suddenly other said
come back but meant don’t go I said dead
and meant every one of those instances of
vanishment how the dead swim away from us
in time their tide their closed wooden boats
I said tide but tide was never right said tide
because we have no word for that kind of
unforgiving away I said tether when I meant
anchor when I meant stay but when I said stay
one thing I meant was against confusion
against yet another loss I meant two-faced
Janus January’s god of fallen gates of trying
to look both ways and when I said farewell
I meant again don’t go but it was too late I was
here in the hall this tunnel full of mirrors glass
and strange made-up faces and when I thought
funhouse I meant its opposite I meant this
rusty carnival town the men so sad they paint
their smiles in place they paint their faces
white paint their eyes wide and full of crying
Leslie Harrison, “[Stutter]” from The Book of Endings. Copyright © 2017 by Leslie Harrison. Reprinted by permission of University of Akron Press.
Source: The Book of Endings (University of Akron Press, 2017-10-06)