I left my blanket in the backseat of your car.
I left my feather in gate 2B of the airport.
I left my nail polish in your mouth,
my sewing machine in the mall—
I left my bobby pins on the pier.
Left my willpower on your sweating neck,
my collarbone on the front porch—
earrings in the tire swing,
I left my seashell in your armpit.
I left my nightmares in Ohio.
I left my long hair in the cave,
my hammer in your glovebox
I left my eyelashes in the ashtray
my lung in a—somewhere...
I left my jacket in the shower.
I left my thigh beneath your pillow,
left my molars in the freezer,
fire in the basement—
loneliness in the top dresser drawer.
I left my heartache in the French press,
fingers on a city bus,
I left my missing on a stone beach,
my memory in the long grass.
Erin Dorney lives in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. You can learn more about her at http://erindorney.com or follow her on Twitter at @edorney. Her work has appeared in The Pinch Literary Journal, Birdfeast Magazine, Rufous City Review, The Found Poetry Review, and elsewhere.
Craig Kurtz
Index Denied
Reinvestment Order
Erin Dorney
This Is Not A Poem About
Fast Food
Left
Tim Kahl
Plasma Globe
Alison McCabe
I Watch Myself Loop
Dan Boehl
excerpts from whatever
from @emoemoji
Vanessa Couto Johnson
(t)ravel
neces(sit)ies
Valentina Cano
Planned Remodeling
Ryan Napier
Seasonal Affective Disorder
Terry Wolverton
Sizzle and Chew
Gregory Crosby
Satan's Skull Glows White Hot
Lea Galanter
When Lost in the Woods
Jake Sheff
Stasis in Ragtime
Angelica Poversky
Enough
Mercedes Lawry
In Late November, There Are
Days of False Clemency