It’s a photo-negative
future, it’s like pick
the wrong page,
like a good
boyfriend
gone to seed away
across the country,
couldn’t that
have come out better, how
for example
could he want
a worse president,
he couldn’t, we would
have canceled each other out
like matter
and antimatter,
still with this
killer strain
escaped to everywhere
from some lab
or leached
out of polar ice
or what else,
it’s sure as shit
not Satan, every hour
with more dead, some days
his state wins, some
days mine does,
this week I set
my hair on fire just
by standing
too close to the stove.
It’s like that. It was perfectly fine,
then gone.
Laurinda Lind lives in New York’s North Country. Some publications/acceptances are in Blue Earth Review, Midwest Quarterly, New American Writing, Paterson Literary Review, and Spillway; also anthologies Visiting Bob: Poems Inspired by the Life and Work of Bob Dylan (New Rivers Press) and AFTERMATH: Explorations of Loss and Grief (Radix Media).
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