Poetry: Alyse Knorr


Yes, Gale

after Keith Reddin’s “Life During Wartime”

The concept of your body remains— in
my living room at night, sitting on the
arm of my couch telling me how you wish
you’d learned to paint before you died and then
asking me for a quick fuck and then
asking me to write a poem about it.
And I say yes, your life was worth a poem
or play, and yes, you could have been a nurse
or champion swimmer.  Yes, you were alive
lying on the kitchen floor with me,
the champagne trickling through your bloodstream like
the final days slipping into the sea
while you sold real estate for Century
Twenty-One, and yes you’d do it again,
and yes, you would be right to, since now, Gale,
we know that you have your poem and I have
to remember you just the way you were
that night we lay across the kitchen tiles,
your hair splayed beneath you and your fingers
all tracing the floor and me asking for
another world, another life, instead of this.

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