This is not the story of a landscape.
This is not the story of
a woman spilling
herself.
Say you are staring into a deep
well, your pockets full
of stones. If you hurl them
one after another into
this ending that you cannot
see, there will be nothing
to hold you down.
There will be nothing to grab
onto when we lose
our small configurations
of stars.
What is this borrowed
architecture? What is
the price of return?
Call it a slight, unbearable
blasphemy:
strangers forgetting
you have a longer name.
Your twin faces turned, deliberate
blinking of your widened
middle eye.
Suzanne Roszak is an MFA student in poetry at the University of California, Irvine. Her poetry is forthcoming or has appeared in Hayden’s Ferry Review, Phoebe, Drunken Boat, Redivider, Fourteen Hills, and Verse Daily.