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Two poems by Mark Danowsky

Orange Ceramic Geckos


I agree to meet with your boyfriend after your death


We go from coffeeshop to Mexican restaurant

Because he tells me he doesn’t want to stop talking


I spot three orange ceramic geckos arranged on the wall

And think how in the past I would have taken a picture

Since this was the kind of thing I would send you for no reason


I decide to take the photo anyway

A record of this kind of moment


When I think to think of you but can no longer reach you

Burn


I burn my wrist

badly it seems

removing the tray of quesadillas from the oven

and I don't care

I tell myself I don't care

it does not feel like I care

but I run it under a warm tap

just a moment

then we continue talking

about nothing

nothing and more nothing

and it's lovely

distracting from what is necessary

me grieving

which is so far from the body

it does not matter if I burn

Mark Danowsky is a Philadelphia poet, author of the poetry collection As Falls Trees (NightBallet Press), Editor of ONE ART: A Journal of Poetry, and Senior Editor at Schuylkill Valley Journal.


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