Poetry: Judith, why do you keep deleting your posts?* by Hannah Craig

O, what now. Just this saying goodbye
at the edge of the park. Wreath of red leaves.

Dark yellow platters of lamplight.
Ahead of us on the hill in the shade

of unstriving, these complacent larches,
this touch-be-touched fogginess.

Like calling out to a brother
you’ve just now seen crossing the street,

his back to you. Brother, tell me how
you’ve been. This.

Room of our lives. This tinsel between us.
This human law. Which is how

we hold to one another. Not for money.
Is this something that comes to you

as it comes to me? Old fashioned
in the way that all flying things know—which is

to leave you must grip even tighter.
What am I even saying/ Where is this going?

Short walk home. Bitterness in the frost.

*Poem title taken from a Pittsburgh neighborhood web forum during 2020 lockdown.

Hannah Craig lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She is the author of This History that Just Happened (Parlor Press, 2017). Her work has recently appeared in journals including Copper Nickel, Jet Fuel Review, and the Mississippi Review.

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