Red Tree Review

COEVAL

my new medicine is turning me into glass—
splinter of light—swerve of sight—I can’t find
you anywhere in this circumstance of echoes—
disarray of insights laid open—consonances—     
anecdote with a hinged clavicle—and I want
only to be making portraits of you—sitting
along the joint of it—laughing in your jeans— 
mirror for a halo—and me trying to recall—
the judder that I felt in the moment I knew 
that the you in place of me was always you—
three into five—the spiral of time—our matter 
—a shine inside my eye—slow feet and hands 
stretched out before me—feeling my way—
I divine no sense for the shape of this space 
where we have been living—all of our lives 

ANDREW VOGEL listens, walks the hills, and teaches in rural eastern Pennsylvania, homelands of the displaced Lenape. His poems have appeared most recently in Poetry East, Crab Creek Review, The Briar Cliff Review, North Dakota Quarterly, Valparaiso Poetry Review, Roanoke Review, Cider Press Review, and Blueline.