David Radavich

So many streets have vanished,

signs stolen by vandals

or turned around, north and south

confused into up and down,

yesterday or tomorrow,

my best friend’s face has melted,

the war heroes of childhood

have been caught behind enemy lines,

weight stays the same

but the brain is noticeably lighter

like a plane with less ballast

flying new and sudden

routines, even the skin thins

and bruises show themselves baldly

almost as paper being folded

with headlines,

the lingering body

simmers in its dark cauldron,

cabernet swallows direct

into blood, knees wade

through the turbulent river,

sun emerges a stern lost teacher—

soon I shall learn

who I am.


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