My wife’s castoff pajama
bottoms lie curled
on the unmade bed like
some kind of sensuous
cat. Alone at home they
startle me as if I have
walked into a forbidden
room. I could pick them
up and smell the warm
goodness of her but I let
them lie. Later when I
return, determined to
clutch them this time, they
are gone, and the day
becomes one of reflection
and tough, spontaneous grace.
Wee one
Wee one,
voice so
shrill I
almost can-
not per-
ceive it,
nor can I
find the
words to
answer,
here in
the castle,
so far
from your
pinpoint eyes,
your mouth
an obelus.
The day is big
The day is big
and
I am small.
I find
myself after losing
so much
else. You are there
and you’re
holding out your
hand,
in your palm
an egg.
I want
to talk to you about
the change
but it is not
essential. You are
here. Even
when the day is so
big
I fall from its height.
COREY MESLER has published in numerous anthologies and journals including Poetry, Gargoyle, Good Poems American Places, and Esquire/Narrative. He has published 8 novels, 4 short story collections, numerous chapbooks, and 4 full-length poetry collections. He’s been nominated for many Pushcarts, and 2 of his poems were chosen for Garrison Keillor’s Writer’s Almanac. With his wife he runs a bookstore in Memphis. He can be found at https://coreymesler.wordpress.com.
