Poem Excluding Online Dating
by Noah Falck
In the cemetery, we are the golden age
of buzzcuts. The shadows conjugate
the sunlight into an architecture of
loss. Then evening with it interns.
And the perfect mother feeding her
children at a small kitchen table. And
a father grimacing out the window
with a mustache so long it scares small
animals back into the forest. Music
peels the walls in a question of color.
Published on September 16, 2016